Moran  of 
The  Lady  Letty 


Moran  of 
The  Lady  Letty 


A  STORY  OF  ADVENTURE  OFF 
THE  CALIFORNIA  COAST    ::    :: 


BY 


FRANK   NORRIS 


NEW   YORK 

DOUBLEDAY  &   McCLURE   CO. 

1898 


COPYRIGHT, 
BY  S.  S.  McCLURE  CO, 


S>eDfcate&  to 


CAPTAIN    JOSEPH     HODGSON 


UNITED  STATES  LIFE  SAVING  SERVICE 


Contents 


PAGE 

I. — SHANGHAIED, 1 

II.— A  NAUTICAL  EDUCATION,        .        .  23 
III.— THE  LADY  LETTY,      ....     44 

IV.— MORAN, 70 

V.— A  GIRL  CAPTAIN,        .        .        .  .95 

VI.— A  SEA  MYSTERY,   ....  118 

VII. —BEACHCOMBERS,         .        .        .  .139 

VIII.— A  RUN  FOR  LAND,      ...  161 

IX.— THE  CAPTURE  OF  HOANG,          .  .  184 

X.— A  BATTLE, 207 

XI.— A  CHANGE  IN  LEADERS,    .        .  .222 

XII. — NEW  CONDITIONS,         .        .        .  246 

XIII.— MORAN  STERNERSEN,      .        .  .268 

XIV.  —THE  OCEAN  is  CALLING  FOR  You,  281 


f    THJ, 

EBSITY 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 


Shanghaied 

THIS  is  to  be  a  story  of  a  battle,  at 
least  one  murder,  and  several  sudden 
deaths.  For  that  reason  it  begins  with 
a  pink  tea  and  among  the  mingled  odors 
of  many  delicate  perfumes  and  the  hale, 
frank  smell  of  Caroline  Testout  roses. 

There  had  been  a  great  number  of 
debutantes  "coming  out"  that  season  in 
San  Francisco  by  means  of  afternoon  teas, 
pink,  lavender,  and  otherwise.  This  par 
ticular  tea  was  intended  to  celebrate  the 
fact  that  Josie  Herrick  had  arrived  at 
that  time  of  her  life  when  she  was  to 
wear  her  hair  high  and  her  gowns  long, 
and  to  have  a  "day"  of  her  own  quite 
distinct  from  that  of  her  mother. 
1 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Koss  Wilbur  presented  himself  at  the 
Herrick  house  on  Pacific  Avenue  much 
too  early  upon  the  afternoon  of  Miss 
Herrick's  tea.  As  he  made  his  way  up 
the  canvased  stairs  he  was  aware  of  a 
terrifying  array  of  millinery  and  a  dis 
quieting  staccato  chatter  of  feminine 
voices  in  the  parlors  and  reception-rooms 
on  either  side  of  the  hallway.  A  single 
high  hat  in  the  room  that  had  been  set 
apart  for  the  men's  use  confirmed  him  in 
his  suspicions. 

"  Might  have  known  it  would  be  a  hen 
party  till  six,  anyhow/'  he  muttered, 
swinging  out  of  his  overcoat.  "Bet  I 
don't  know  one  girl  in  twenty  down 
there  now — all  mamma's  friends  at  this 
hour,  and  papa's  maiden  sisters,  and  Jo's 
school-teachers  and  governesses  and  music 
teachers,  and  I  don't  know  what  all. " 

When  he  went  down  he  found  it  pre 
cisely  as  he  expected.  He  went  up  to 
Miss  Herrick,  where  she  stood  receiving 
with  her  mother  and  two  of  the  other 


I 


Shanghaied 

girls,  and  allowed  them  to  chaff'  him  on 
his  forlornness. 

"Maybe  I  seem  at  my  ease,"  said  Ross 
Wilbur  to  them,  "but  really  I  am  very 
much  frightened.  I'm  going  to  run  away 
as  soon  as  it  is  decently  possible,  even 
before,  unless  you  feed  me." 

"  I  believe  you  had  luncheon  not  two 
hours  ago,"  said  Miss  Herri ck.  "Come 
along,  though,  and  I'll  give  you  some 
chocolate,  and  perhaps,  if  you're  good,  a 
stuffed  olive.  I  got  them  just  because  I 
knew  you  liked  them.  I  ought  to  stay 
here  and  receive,  so  I  can't  look  after  you 
for  long." 

The  two  fought  their  way  through  the 
crowded  rooms  to  the  luncheon-table,  and 
Miss  Herrick  got  Wilbur  his  chocolate 
and  his  stuffed  olives.  They  sat  down 
and  talked  in  a  window  recess  for  a  mo 
ment,  Wilbur  toeing-in  in  absurd  fashion 
as  he  tried  to  make  a  lap  for  his  plate. 

"I  thought,"  said  Miss  Herrick,  "that 
you  were  going  on  the  Ridgeways'  yacht- 


\ 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

ing  party  this  afternoon.  Mrs.  Ridge- 
way  said  she  was  counting  on  you. 
They  are  going  out  with  the  Petrel" 

"She  didn't  count  above  a  hundred, 
though,"  answered  Wilbur.  "I  got  your 
bid  first,  so  I  regretted  the  yachting 
party ;  and  I  guess  I'd  have  regretted  it 
anyhow,"  and  he  grinned  at  her  over  his 
cup. 

"Nice  man,"  she  said, — adding  on  the 
instant,  "  I  must  go  now,  Ross. " 

"  Wait  till  I  eat  the  sugar  out  of  nay 
cup,"  complained  Wilbur.  "Tell  me,"  he 
added,  scraping  vigorously  at  the  bottom 
of  the  cup  with  the  inadequate  spoon; 
"tell  me,  you're  going  to  the  hoe-down 
to-night?" 

"  If  you  mean  the  Assembly,  yes,  I  am. " 

"Will  you  give  me  the  first  and  last?" 

"I'll  give  you  the  first,  and  you  can 
ask  for  the  last  then." 

"  Let's  put  it  down ;  I  know  you'll  for 
get  it."  Wilbur  drew  a  couple  of  cards 

from  his  case. 

4 


Shanghaied 

"Programmes  are  not  good  form  any 
more,"  said  Miss  Herrick. 

"Forgetting  a  dance  is  worse." 

He  made  out  the  cards,  writing  on  the 
one  he  kept  for  himself,  "  First  waltz — 
Jo." 

"  I  must  go  back  now,"  said  Miss  Her 
rick,  getting  up. 

"  In  that  case  I  shall  run — I'm  afraid 
of  girls." 

"It's  a  pity  about  you." 

"I  am;  one  girl,  I  don't  say,  but  girl 
in  the  aggregate  like  this,"  and  he  point 
ed  his  chin  toward  the  thronged  parlors. 
"It  unmans  me." 

"Good-by,  then." 

"Good-by,  until  to-night,  about —  —  ?" 

"About  nine." 

"About  nine,  then." 

Eoss  Wilbur  made  his  adieu  to  Mrs. 
Herrick  and  the  girls  who  were  receiving, 
and  took  himself  away.  As  he  came  out 
of  the  house  and  stood  for  a  moment  on 
the  steps,  settling  his  hat  gingerly  upon 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

his  hair  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  parting, 
he  was  not  by  any  means  an  ill-looking 
chap.  His  good  height  was  helped  out 
by  his  long  coat  and  his  high  silk  hat, 
and  there  was  plenty  of  jaw  in  the  lower 
part  of  his  face.  Nor  was  his  tailor 
altogether  answerable  for  his  shoulders. 
Three  years  before  this  time  Eoss  Wilbur 
had  pulled  at  No.  5  in  his  'varsity  boat 
in  an  Eastern  college  that  was  not  ac 
customed  to  athletic  discomfiture. 

"  I  wonder  what  I'm  going  to  do  with 
myself  until  supper- time,"  he  muttered, 
as  he  came  down  the  steps,  feeling  for 
the  middle  of  his  stick.  He  found  no 
immediate  answer  to  his  question.  But 
the  afternoon  was  fine,  and  he  set  off  to 
walk  in  the  direction  of  the  town,  with  a 
half -formed  idea  of  looking  in  at  his  club. 

At  his  club  he  found  a  letter  in  his 
box  from  his  particular  chum,  who  had 
been  spending  the  month  shooting  elk  in 
Oregon. 

"Dear   Old    Man,"    it   said,    "will  be 
6 


Shanghaied 

back  on  the  afternoon  you  receive  this. 
Will  hit  the  town  on  the  three  o'clock 
boat.  Get  seats  for  the  best  show  going 
— my  treat — and  arrange  to  assimilate 
nutriment  at  the  Poodle  Dog — also  mine. 
I've  got  miles  of  talk  in  me  that  I've  got 
to  reel  off  before  midnight. 

"Yours, 

"  JERRY. 

"I've  got  a  stand  of  horns  for  you, 
Eoss,  that  are  Glory  Hallelujah." 

"Well,  I  can't  go,"  murmured  Wilbur, 
as  he  remembered  the  Assembly  that  was 
to  come  off  that  night  and  his  engaged 
dance  with  Jo  Herri ck.  He  decided  that 
it  would  be  best  to  meet  Jerry  as  he  came 
off  the  boat  and  tell  him  how  matters 
stood.  Then  he  resolved,  since  no  one 
that  he  knew  was  in  the  club,  and  the 
instalment  of  the  Paris  weeklies  had  not 
arrived,  that  it  would  be  amusing  to  go 
down  to  the  water-front  and  loaf  among 
the  shipping  until  it  was  time  for  Jerry's 
boat. 

7 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Wilbur  spent  an  hour  along  the 
wharves,  watching  the  great  grain  ships 
consigned  to  "Cork  for  orders"  slowly 
gorging  themselves  with  whole  harvests 
of  wheat  from  the  San  Joaquin  Valley; 
lumber  vessels  for  Durban  and  South 
African  ports  settling  lower  and  lower  to 
the  water's  level  as  forests  of  pine  and 
redwood  stratified  themselves  along  their 
decks  and  in  their  holds ;  coal  barges  dis 
charging  from  Nanaimo;  busy  little  tugs 
coughing  and  nuzzling  at  the  flanks  of 
deep-sea  tramps,  while  hay  barges  arid 
Italian  whitehalls  came  and  went  at 
every  turn.  A  Stockton-river  boat  went 
by,  her  stern  wheel  churning  along  be 
hind,  like  a  huge  net-reel ;  a  tiny  mael 
strom  of  activity  centred  about  an  Alaska 
commercial  company's  steamboat  that 
would  clear  for  Dawson  in  the  morning. 

No  quarter  of  one  of  the  most  pic 
turesque  cities  in  the  world  had  more  in 
terest  for  Wilbur  than  the  water-front. 
In  the  mile  or  so  of  shipping  that 


Shanghaied 

stretched  from  the  docks  where  the  China 
steamships  landed,  down  past  the  ferry 
slips  and  on  to  Meiggs's  wharf,  every 
maritime  nation  in  the  world  was  rep 
resented.  More  than  once  Wilbur  had 
talked  to  the  loungers  of  the  wharves, 
stevedores  out  of  work,  sailors  between 
voyages,  caulkers  and  ship  chandlers' 
men  looking — not  too  earnestly — for  jobs ; 
so  that  on  this  occasion,  when  a  little, 
undersized  fellow  in  dirty  brown  sweater 
and  clothes  of  Barbary- coast  cut  asked 
him  for  a  match  to  light  his  pipe,  Wilbur 
offered  a  cigar  and  passed  the  time  of  day 
with  him.  Wilbur  had  not  forgotten  that 
he  himself  was  dressed  for  an  afternoon 
function.  But  the  incongruity  of  the 
business  was  precisely  what  most  amused 
him. 

After  a  time  the  fellow  suggested 
drinks.  Wilbur  hesitated  for  a  moment. 
It  would  be  something  to  tell  about,  how 
ever,  so,  "All  right,  I'll  drink  with  you," 
he  said. 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

The  brown  sweater  led  the  way  to  a 
sailors'  boarding-house  hard  by.  The 
rear  of  the  place  was  built  upon  piles 
over  the  water.  But  in  front,  on  the 
ground  floor,  was  a  barroom. 

"Rum  an'  gum,"  announced  the  brown 
sweater,  as  the  two  came  in  and  took 
their  places  at  the  bar. 

"  Rum  an'  gum,  Tuck ;  wattle  you 
have,  sir?" 

"Oh— I  don't  know,"  hesitated  Wil 
bur;  "give  me  a  mild  Manhattan." 

While  the  drinks  were  being  mixed 
the  brown  sweater  called  Wilbur's  atten 
tion  to  a  fighting  head-dress  from  the 
Marquesas  that  was  hung  on  the  wall 
over  the  free-lunch  counter  and  opposite 
the  bar.  Wilbur  turned  about  to  look  at 
it,  and  remained  so,  his  back  to  the  bar 
keeper,  till  the  latter  told  them  their 
drinks  were  ready. 

"Well,  mate,  here's  big  blocks  an'  taut 
hawse-pipes,"  said  the  brown  sweater  cor 
dially. 

10 


Shanghaied 

"Your  very  good  health,"  returned 
Wilbur. 

The  brown  sweater  wiped  a  thin  mus 
tache  in  the  hollow  of  his  palin,  and 
wiped  that  palm  upon  his  trouser  leg. 

"Yessir,"  he  continued,  once  more 
facing  the  Marquesas  head-dress.  "Yes- 
sir,  they're  queer  game  down  there." 

"  In  the  Marquesas  Islands,  you  mean?" 
said  Wilbur. 

"  Yessir,  they're  queer  game.  When 
they  ain't  tattoin'  theirselves  with  Scrip 
ture  tex's  they  git  from  the  missionaries, 
their  pullin'  out  the  hairs  all  over  their 
bodies  with  two  clam-shells.  Hair  by 
hair,  y'  understanV 

"Pull'n  out  'er  hair?"  said  Wilbur, 
wondering  what  was  the  matter  with  his 
tongue. 

"They  think  it's  clever — think  the 
women  folk  like  it." 

Wilbur  had  fancied  that  the  little  man 
had  worn  a  brown  sweater  when  they 

first  met.     But  now,  strangely  enough,  he 
11 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

was  not  in  the  least  surprised  to  see  it 
iridescent  like  a  pigeon's  breast. 

"Y'  ever  been  down  that  way?"  in 
quired  the  little  man  next. 

Wilbur  heard  the  words  distinctly 
enough,  but  somehow  they  refused  to 
fit  into  the  right  places  in  his  brain. 
He  pulled  himself  together,  frowning 
heavily. 

"What — did — you — say?"  he  asked 
with  great  deliberation,  biting  off  his 
words.  Then  he  noticed  that  he  and  his 
companion  were  no  longer  in  the  bar 
room,  but  in  a  little  room  back  of  it. 
His  personality  divided  itself.  There 
was  one  Eoss  Wilbur — who  could  not 
make  his  hands  go  where  he  wanted 
them,  who  said  one  word  when  he 
thought  another,  and  whose  legs  below 
the  knee  were  made  of  solid  lead.  Then 
there  was  another  Ross  Wilbur — Ross 
Wilbur  the  alert,  who  was  perfectly  clear 
headed,  and  who  stood  off  to  one  side  and 

watched  his  twin  brother  making  a  mon- 
12 


Shanghaied 

key  of  himself,  without  power  and  with 
out  even  the  desire  of  helping  him. 

This  latter  Wilbur  heard  the  iridescent 
sweater  say : 

"Bust  me,  if  y'  a'n't  squiffy,  old  man. 
Stand  by  a  bit  an'  we'll  have  a  ball." 

"  Can't  have  got — return — exception 
ally — and  the  round  table — pull  out  hairs 
wi'  tu  clamsh'ls,"  gabbled  Wilbur's  stupe 
fied  double ;  and  Wilbur  the  alert  said  to 
himself:  "You're  not  drunk,  Eoss  Wil 
bur,  that's  certain ;  what  could  they  have 
put  in  your  cocktail?" 

The  iridescent  sweater  stamped  twice 
upon  the  floor  and  a  trap-door  fell  away 
beneath  Wilbur's  feet  like  the  drop  of  a 
gallows.  With  the  eyes  of  his  undrugged 
self  Wilbur  had  a  glimpse  of  water  below. 
His  elbow  struck  the  floor  as  he  went 
down,  and  he  fell  feet  first  into  a  White 
hall  boat.  He  had  time  to  observe  two 
men  at  the  oars  and  to  look  between  the 
piles  that  supported  the  house  above  him 

and  catch  a  glimpse  of    the  bay  and   a 
13 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

glint  of  the  Contra  Costa  shore.  He  was 
not  in  the  least  surprised  at  what  had 
happened,  and  made  up  his  mind  that  it 
would  be  a  good  idea  to  lie  down  in  the 
boat  and  go  to  sleep. 

Suddenly — but  how  long  after  his  ad 
vent  into  the  boat  he  could  not  tell— 
his  wits  began  to  return  and  settle  them 
selves,  like  wild  birds  flocking  again  after 
a  scare.  Swiftly  he  took  in  the  scene. 
The  blue  waters  of  the  bay  around  him, 
the  deck  of  a  schooner  on  which  he  stood, 
the  Whitehall  boat  alongside,  and  an 
enormous  man  with  a  face  like  a  setting 
moon  wrangling  with  his  friend  in  the 
sweater — no  longer  iridescent. 

"  What  do  you  call  it?"  shouted  the  red 
man.  "I  want  able  seamen — I  don't 
figger  on  working  this  boat  with  dancing 
masters,  do  I?  We  ain't  exactly  doing 
quadrilles  on  my  quarterdeck.  If  we 
don't  look  out  we'll  step  on  this  thing 
and  break  it.  It  ain't  ought  to  be  let 
around  loose  without  its  ma." 
14 


Shanghaied 

"Rot  that,"  vociferated  the  brown 
sweater.  "  I  tell  you  he's  one  of  the  best 
sailor  men  on  the  front.  If  he  ain't  we'll 
forfeit  the  money.  Come  on,  Captain 
Kitchell,  we  made  show  enough  gettin' 
away  as  it  was,  and  this  daytime  business 
ain't  our  line.  D'you  sign  or  not? 
Here's  the  advance  note.  I  got  to  duck 
my  nut  or  I'll  have  the  patrol  boat  after 
me." 

"  I'll  sign  this  once,"  growled  the  other, 
scrawling  his  name  on  the  note;  "but  if 
this  swab  ain't  up  to  sample,  he'll  come 
back  by  freight,  an'  I'll  drop  in  on  mee 
dear  friend  Jim  when  we  come  back  and 
give  him  a  reel  nice  time,  an'  you  can  lay 
to  that,  Billy  Trim."  The  brown  sweater 
pocketed  the  note,  went  over  the  side,  and 
rowed  off. 

Wilbur  stood  in  the  waist  of  a  schooner 
anchored  in  the  stream  well  off  Fisher 
man's  wharf.  In  the  forward  part  of 
the  schooner  a  Chinaman  in  brown  duck 

was  mixing  paint.     Wilbur  was  conscious 
15 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

that  he  still  wore  his  high  hat  and  long 
coat,  but  his  stick  was  gone  and  one  gray 
glove  was  slit  to  the  button.  In  front  of 
him  towered  the  enormous  red-faced  man. 
A  pungent  reek  of  some  kind  of  rancid 
fat  or  oil  assailed  his  nostrils.  Over  by 
Alcatraz  a  ferry-boat  whistled  for  its  slip 
as  it  elbowed  its  way  through  the  water. 

Wilbur  had  himself  fairly  in  hand  by 
now.  His  wits  were  all  about  him ;  but 
the  situation  was  beyond  him  as  yet. 

"Git  for'd,"  commanded  the  big  man. 

Wilbur  drew  himself  up,  angry  in  an 
instant.  "Look  here,"  he  began,  "what's 
the  meaning  of  this  business?  I  know 
I've  been  drugged  and  mishandled.  I  de 
mand  to  be  put  ashore.  Do  you  under 
stand  that?" 

"Angel  child,"  whimpered  the  big 
man.  "  Oh,  you  lilee  of  the  vallee,  you 
bright  an'  mornin'  star.  I'm  reely 
pained,  y'know,  that  your  vally  can't 
come  along,  but  we'll  have  your  piano 
set  up  in  the  lazarette.  It  gives  me  gen- 
16 


Shanghaied 

nine  grief,  it  do,  to  see  you  bein'  obliged 
to  put  your  lilee  white  feet  on  this  here 
vulgar  an'  dirtee  deck.  We'll  have  the 
Wilton  carpet  down  by  to-morrer,  so  we 
will,  my  dear.  Yah-h!"  he  suddenly 
broke  out,  as  his  rage  boiled  over.  "  Git 
for'd,  d'ye  hear!  I'm  captain  of  this 
here  bathtub,  an'  that's  all  you  need  to 
know  for  a  good  while  to  come.  I  ain't 
generally  got  to  tell  that  to  a  man  but 
once ;  but  I'll  stretch  the  point  just  for 
love  of  you,  angel  child.  Now,  then, 
move !" 

Wilbur  stood  motionless — puzzled  be 
yond  expression.  No  experience  he  had 
ever  been  through  helped  in  this  situa 
tion. 

"Look  here,"  he  began,  "I— 

The  captain  knocked  him  down  with  a 
blow  of  one  enormous  fist  upon  the  mouth, 
and  while  he  was  yet  stretched  upon  the 
deck  kicked  him  savagely  in  the  stomach. 
Then  he  allowed  him  to  rise,  caught  him 

by  the  neck  and  the  slack  of  his  overcoat, 
2  17 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

and  ran  him  forward  to  where  a  hatch 
way,  not  two  feet  across,  opened  in  the 
deck.  Without  ado  he  flung  him  down 
into  the  darkness  below;  and  while  Wil 
bur,  dizzied  by  the  fall,  sat  on  the  floor  at 
the  foot  of  the  vertical  companion-ladder, 
gazing  about  him  with  distended  eyes, 
there  rained  down  upon  his  head,  first  an 
oilskin  coat,  then  a  sou'wester,  a  pair  of 
oilskin  breeches,  woollen  socks,  and  a 
plug  of  tobacco.  Above  him,  down  the 
contracted  square  of  the  hatch,  came  the 
bellowing  of  the  Captain's  voice: 

"There's  your  fit-out,  Mister  Lilee  of 
the  Vallee,  which  the  same  our  dear 
friend  Jim  makes  a  present  of  and  no 
charge,  because  he  loves  you  so.  You're 
allowed  two  minutes  to  change,  an'  it  is 
to  be  hoped  as  how  you  won't  force  me  to 
come  for  to  assist." 

It  would  have  been  interesting  to  have 

followed,  step  by  step,  the  mental  process 

that  now  took  place   in   Eoss   Wilbur's 

brain.     The  Captain  had  given  him  two 

18 


Shanghaied 

minutes  in  which  to  change.  The  time 
was  short  enough,  but  even  at  that  Wil 
bur  changed  more  than  his  clothes  during 
the  two  minutes  he  was  left  to  himself  in 
the  reeking  dark  of  the  schooner's  fo'cas- 
tle.  It  was  more  than  a  change — it  was 
a  revolution.  What  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  do — precisely  what  mental  attitude  he 
decided  to  adopt,  just  what  new  niche  he 
elected  wherein  to  set  his  feet,  it  is  diffi 
cult  to  say.  Only  by  results  could  the 
change  be  guessed  at.  He  went  down 
the  forward  hatch  at  the  toe  of  KitcheH's 
boot  —  silk-hatted,  melton-overcoatecl, 
patent-booted,  and  gloved  in  suedes. 
Two  minutes  later  there  emerged  upon  the 
deck  a  figure  in  oilskins  and  a  sou'wester. 
There  was  blood  upon  the  face  of  him  and 
the  grime  of  an  unclean  ship  upon  his 
bare  hands.  It  was  Wilbur,  and  yet  not 
Wilbur.  In  two  minutes  he  had  been, 
in  a  way,  born  again.  The  only  traces  of 
his  former  self  were  the  patent-leather 

boots,  still  persistent  in  their  gloss  and 
19 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

shine,  that  showed  with  grim  incongruity 
below  the  vast  compass  of  the  oilskin 
breeches. 

As  Wilbur  came  on  deck  he  saw  the 
crew  of  the  schooner  hurrying  forward, 
six  of  them,  Chinamen  every  one,  in 
brown  jeans  and  black  felt  hats.  On  the 
quarterdeck  stood  the  Captain,  barking 
his  orders. 

"Consider  the  Lilee  of  the  Vallee,"  bel 
lowed  the  latter,  as  his  eye  fell  upon 
Wilbur  the  Transformed.  "Clap  on  to 
that  starboard  windlass  brake,  sonny." 

Wilbur  saw  the  Chinamen  ranging 
themselves  about  what  he  guessed  was 
the  windlass  in  the  schooner's  bow.  He 
followed  and  took  his  place  among  them, 
grasping  one  of  the  bars. 

"Break  down!"  came  the  next  order. 
Wilbur  and  the  Chinamen  obeyed,  bear 
ing  up  and  down  upon  the  bars  till  the 
slack  of  the  anchor- chain  came  home 
and  stretched  taut  and  dripping  from  the 

hawse-holes. 

20 


Shanghaied 


'  'Vast  heavin' !" 

And  then  as  Wilbur  released  the  brake 
and  turned  about  for  the  next  order,  he 
cast  his  glance  out  upon  the  bay,  and 
there,  not  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
away,  her  spotless  sails  tense,  her  cordage 
humming,  her  immaculate  flanks  slipping 
easily  through  the  waves,  the  water  hiss 
ing  and  churning  under  her  forefoot, 
clean,  gleaming,  dainty,  and  aristocratic, 
the  Eidge ways'  yacht  Petrel  passed  like  a 
thing  of  life.  Wilbur  saw  Nat  Eidgeway 
himself  at  the  wheel.  Girls  in  smart 
gowns  and  young  fellows  in  white  ducks 
and  yachting  caps — all  friends  of  his — 
crowded  the  decks.  A  little  orchestra  of 
musicians  were  reeling  off  a  quickstep. 

The  popping  of  a  cork  and  a  gale  of  talk 
and  laughter  came  to  his  ears.  Wilbur 
stared  at  the  picture,  his  face  devoid  of 
expression.  The  Petrel  came  on — drew 
nearer- — was  not  a  hundred  feet  away 
from  the  schooner's  stem.  A  strong 

swimmer,  such  as   Wilbur,   could  cover 
21 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

the  distance  in  a  few  strokes.  Two  min 
utes  ago  Wilbur  might  have 

"Set  your  mains'l,"  came  the  bellow 
of  Captain  Kitchell.  "Clap  on  to  your 
throat  and  peak  halyards." 

The  Chinamen  hurried  aft. 

Wilbur  followed. 


n 

A  Nautical   Education 

IN  the  course  of  the  next  few  moments, 
while  the  little  vessel  was  being  got  un 
der  way,  and  while  the  Kidgeways'  Petrel 
gleamed  off  into  the  blue  distance,  Wil 
bur  made  certain  observations. 

The  name  of  the  boat  on  jyhich  he 
found  himself  was  the^Itertha  Millner. 
She  was  a  two- topmast,  28-ton  keel 
schooner,  40  feet  long,  carrying  a  large 
spread  of  sail — mainsail,  foresail,  jib,  fly 
ing-jib,  two  gaff- topsails,  and  a  staysail. 
She  was  very  dirty  and  smelt  abominably 
of  some  kind  of  rancid  oil.  Her  crew 
were  Chinamen;  there  was  no  mate. 
But  the  cook  —  himself  a  Chinaman  — 
who  appeared  from  time  to  time  at  the 
door  of  the  galley,  a  potato-masher  in  his 
hand,  seemed  to  have  some  sort  of  author- 
itv  over  the  hands.  He  acted  in  a  man- 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

ner  as  a  go-between  for  th:3  Captain  and 
the  crew,  sometimes  interpreting  the  for 
mer's  orders,  and  occasionally  giving  one 
of  his  own. 

Wilbur  heard  the  Captain  address  him 
as  Charlie.  He  spoke  pigeon  English 
fairly.  Of  the  balance  of  the  crew — the 
five  Chinamen — Wilbur  could  make  noth 
ing.  They  never  spoke,  neither  to  Cap 
tain  Kitchell,  to  Charlie,  nor  to  each  other ; 
and  for  all  the  notice  they  took  of  Wilbur 
he  might  easily  have  been  a  sack  of  sand. 
Wilbur  felt  that  his  advent  on  the  Bertha 
Millner  was  by  its  very  nature  an  extra 
ordinary  event ;  but  the  absolute  indiffer 
ence  of  these  brown-suited  Mongols,  the 
blankness  of  their  flat,  fat  faces,  the  dul- 
ness  of  their  slanting,  fishlike  eyes  that 
never  met  his  own  or  even  wandered  in 
his  direction,  was  uncanny,  disquieting. 
In  what  strange  venture  was  he  now  to 
be  involved,  toward  what  unknown  vor 
tex  was  this  new  current  setting,  this 

current  that  had    so    suddenly   snafeched 
24 


A  Nautical  Education 

him  from  the  solid  ground  of  his  accus 
tomed  life? 

He  told  himself  grimly  that  he  was  to 
have  a  free  cruise  up  the  bay,  perhaps  as 
far  as  Alviso ;  perhaps  the  Bertha  Millner 
would  even  make  the  circuit  of  the  bay 
before  returning  to  San  Francisco.  He 
might  be  gone  a  week.  (^Wilbur  could 
already  see  the  scare-heads  of  the  daily 
papers  the  next  morning,  chronicling  the 
disappearance  of  "One  of  Society's  Most 
Popular  Members." 

"  That's  well,  y'r  throat  halyards. 
Here,  Lilee  of  the  Vallee,  give  a  couple 
of  pulls  on  y'r  peak  halyard  purchase." 

Wilbur  stared  at  the  Captain  help 
lessly. 

"No  can  tell,  hey?"  inquired  Charlie 
from  the  galley.  "Pullum  disa  lope, 
sabe?" 

Wilbur  tugged  at  the  rope  the  cook 
indicated. 

"That's   well,   y'r  peak   halyard  pur 
chase,"  chanted  Captain  Kitchell. 
25 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Wilbur  made  the  rope  fast.  The 
mainsail  was  set,  and  hung  slatting  and 
flapping  in  the  wind.  Next  the  for 'sail 
was  set  in  much  the  same  manner,  and 
Wilbur  was  ordered  to  "  lay  out  on  the 
ji'boom  and  cast  the  gaskets  off  the  jib." 
He  "lay  out"  as  best  he  could  and  cast 
off  the  gaskets — he  knew  barely  enough 
of  yachting  to  understand  an  order  here 
and  there — and  by  the  time  he  was  back 
on  the  fo'c'sle  head  the  Chinamen  were 
at  the  jib  halyard  and  hoisting  away. 

"That's  well,  y'r  jib  halyards." 

The  Bertha  Millner  veered  round  and 
played  off  to  the  wind,  tugging  at  her 
anchor. 

"  Man  y'r  windlass. " 

Wilbur  and  the  crew  jumped  once 
more  to  the  brakes. 

"  Brake  down,  heave  y'r  anchor  to  the 
cathead." 

The  anchor- chain,  already  taut,  vi 
brated  and  then  cranked  through  the 
hawse-holes  as  the  hands  rose  and  fell  at 


A  Nautical  Education 

the  brakes.  The  anchor  came  home, 
dripping  gray  slime.  A  nor' west  wind 
filled  the  schooner's  sails,  a  strong  ebb 
tide  caught  her  under-foot. 

"We're  off,"  muttered  Wilbtr,  as  the 
Bertha  Millner  heeled  to  the  first  gust. 

But  evidently  the  schooner  was  not 
bound  up  the  bay. 

"Must  be  Vallejo  or  Benicia,  then," 
hazarded  Wilbur,  as  the  sails  grew  tenser 
and  the  water  rippled  ever  louder  under 
the  schooner's  forefoot.  "Maybe  they're 
going  after  hay  or  wheat." 

The  schooner  was  tacking,  headed  di 
rectly  for  Meiggs's  wharf.  She  came  in 
closer  and  closer,  so  close  that  Wilbur 
could  hear  the  talk  of  the  fishermen  sit 
ting  on  the  stringpieces.  He  had  just 
made  up  his  mind  that  they  were  to  make 
a  landing  there,  when — 

"Stand  by  for  stays,"  came  the  raucous 

bark  of  the  Captain,  who  had  taken  the 

wheel.     The  sails  slatted  furiously  as  the 

schooner  came  about.     Then  the  Bertha 

27 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Millner  caught  the  wind  again  and  lay 
over  quietly  and  contentedly  to  her  work. 
The  next  tack  brought  the  schooner  close 
under  Alcatraz.  The  sea  became  heavier, 
the  breeze  grew  stiff  and  smelt  of  the 
outside  ocean.  Out  beyond  them  to  west 
ward  opened  the  Golden  Gate,  a  bleak 
vista  of  gray -green  water  roughened  with 
white- caps. 

"  Stand  by  for  stays. " 

Once  again,  as  the  rudder  went  hard 
over,  the  Bertha  Millner  fretted  and 
danced  and  shook  her  sails,  calling  impa 
tiently  for  the  wind,  chafing  at  its  ab 
sence  like  a  child  reft  of  a  toy.  Then 
again  she  scooped  the  nor' wester  in  the 
hollow  palms  of  her  tense  canvases  and 
settled  quietly  down  on  the  new  tack,  her 
bowsprit  pointing  straight  toward  the 
Presidio. 

"We'll  come  about  again  soon,"  Wil 
bur  told  himself,  "  and  stand  over  toward 
the  Contra  Costa  shore." 

A  fine  huge  breath  of  wind  passed 
28 


A  Nautical  Education 

over  the  schooner.  She  heeled  it  on  the 
instant,  the  water  roaring  along  her 
quarter,  but  she  kept  her  course.  Wil 
bur  fell  thoughtful  again,  never  more 
keenly  observant. 

"She  must  come  about  soon,"  he  mut 
tered  uneasily,  "if  she's  going  to  stand 
up  toward  Vallejo."  His  heart  sank  with 
a  sudden  apprehension.  A  nervousness 
he  could  not  overcome  seized  upon  him. 
The  Bertha  Millner  held  tenaciously  to 
the  tack.  Within  fifty  yards  of  the  Pre 
sidio  came  the  command  again: 

"Stand  by  for  stays." 

Once  more,  her  bows  dancing,  her 
cordage  rattling,  her  sails  flapping  noisily, 
the  schooner  came  about.  Anxiously 
Wilbur  observed  the  bowsprit  as  it  circled 
like  a  hand  on  a  dial,  watching  where 
now  it  would  point.  It  wavered,  fluc 
tuated,  rose,  fell,  then  settled  easily, 
pointing  toward  Lime  Point.  Wilbur 
felt  a  sudden  coldness  at  his  heart. 

"This  isn't  going  to  be  so  much  fun," 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

he  muttered  between  his  teeth.  The 
schooner  was  not  bound  up  the  bay  for 
Alviso  nor  to  Vallejo  for  grain.  The 
track  toward  Lime  Point  could  mean  but 
one  thing.  The  wind  was  freshening 
from  the  nor 'west,  the  ebb  tide  rushing 
out  to  meet  the  ocean  like  a  mill-race,  at 
every  moment  the  Golden  Gate  opened 
out  wider,  and  within  two  minutes  after 
the  time  of  the  last  tack  the  Bertha  Mill- 
ner  heeled  to  a  great  gust  that  had  come 
booming  in  between  the  heads,  straight 
from  the  open  Pacific. 

"Stand  by  for  stays." 

As  before,  one  of  the  Chinese  hands 
stood  by  the  sail  rope  of  the  jib. 

" Draw  y'r  jib." 

The  jib  filled.  The  schooner  came 
about  on  the  port  tack ;  Lime  Point  fell 
away  over  the  stern  rail.  The  huge 
ground  swells  began  to  come  in,  and  as 
she  rose  and  bowed  to  the  first  of  these  it 
was  precisely  as  though  the  Bertha  Mill- 
tier  were  making  her  courtesy  to  the 
30 


A  Nautical  Education 

great  gray  ocean,  now  for  the  first  time 
in  full  sight  on  her  starboard  quarter. 

The  schooner  was  beating  out  to  sea 
through  the  Middle  Channel.  Once  clear 
of  the  Golden  Gate,  she  stood  over  toward 
the  Cliff  House,  then  on  the  next  tack 
cleared  Point  Bonita.  The  sea  began 
building  up  in  deadly  earnest — they  were 
about  to  cross  the  bar.  Everything  was 
battened  down,  the  scuppers  were  awash, 
and  the  hawse-holes  spouted  like  foun 
tains  after  every  plunge.  Once  the  Cap 
tain  ordered  all  men  aloft,  just  in  time  to 
escape  a  gigantic  dull  green  roller  that 
broke  like  a  Niagara  over  the  schooner's 
bows,  smothering  the  decks  knee-deep  in 
a  twinkling. 

The  wind  blew  violent  and  cold,  the 
spray  was  flying  like  icy  small-shot. 
Without  intermission  the  Bertha  Millner 
rolled  and  plunged  and  heaved  and  sank. 
Wilbur  was  drenched  to  the  skin  and  sore 
in  every  joint,  from  being  shunted  from 
rail  to  mast  and  from  mast  to  rail  again. 
31 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

The  cordage  sang  like  harp-strings,  the 
schooner's  forefoot  crushed  down  into 
the  heaving  water  with  a  hissing  like 
that  of  steam,  blocks  rattled,  the  Captain 
bellowed  his  orders,  rope-ends  flogged  the 
hollow  deck  till  it  reverberated  like  a 
drum-head.  The  crossing  of  the  bar  was 
one  long  half-hour  of  confusion  and  dis 
cordant  sound. 

When  they  were  across  the  bar  the 
Captain  ordered  the  cook  to  give  the  men 
their  food. 

"Git  for'rd,  sonny,"  he  added,  fixing 
Wilbur  with  his  eye.  "Git  for'rd,  this 
is  tawble  dee  hote,  savy?" 

Wilbur  crawled  forward  on  the  reeling 
deck,  holding  on  now  to  a  mast,  now  to 
a  belaying-pin,  now  to  a  stay,  watching 
his  chance  and  going  on  between  the  in 
ebriated  plunges  of  the  schooner. 

He  descended  the  fo'c'sle  hatch.     The 

Chinamen    were     already    there,    sitting 

on  the   edges    of  their  bunks.     On    the 

floor,  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder,  punk- 

32 


A  Nautical  Education 

sticks  were  burning  in  an  old  tomato- 
can. 

Charlie  brought  in  supper — stewed  beef 
and  pork  in  a  bread-pan  and  a  wooden 
kit — and  the  Chinamen  ate  it  in  silence 
with  their  sheath -knives  and  from  tin 
plates.  A  liquid  that  bore  a  distant  re 
semblance  to  coffee  was  served.  Wilbur 
learned  afterward  to  know  the  stuff  as 
Black  Jack,  and  to  be  aware  that  it  was 
made  from  bud  barley  and  was  sweetened 
with  molasses.  A  single  reeking  lamp 
swung  with  the  swinging  of  the  schooner 
over  the  centre  of  the  group,  and  long 
afterward  Wilbur  could  remember  the 
grisly  scene — the  punk-sticks,  the  bread- 
pan  full  of  hunks  of  meat,  the  horrid 
close  and  oily  smell,  and  the  circle  of 
silent,  preoccupied  Chinese,  each  sitting 
on  his  bunk-ledge,  devouring  stewed  pork 
and  holding  his  pannikin  of  Black  Jack 
between  his  feet  against  the  rolling  of  the 
boat. 

Wilbur  looked  fearfully  at  the  mess 
3  33 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

in  the  pan,  recalling  the  chocolate  and 
stuffed  olives  that  had  been  his  last 
luncheon. 

"Well,"  he  muttered,  clenching  his 
teeth,  "  I've  got  to  come  to  it  sooner  or 
later."  His  penknife  was  in  the  pocket 
of  his  waistcoat,  underneath  his  oilskin 
coat.  He  opened  the  big  blade,  har 
pooned  a  cube  of  pork,  and  deposited  it 
on  his  tin  plate.  He  ate  it  slowly  and 
with  savage  determination.  But  the 
Black  Jack  was  more  than  he  could 
bear. 

"  I'm  not  hungry  enough  for  that  just 
now,"  he  told  himself.  "Say,  Jim,"  he 
said,  turning  to  the  Chinaman  next  him 
on  the  bunk-ledge,  "say,  what  kind  of 
boat  is  this?  What  you  do — where  you 
go?" 

The  other  moved  away  impatiently. 

"No  sabe,  no  sabe,"  he  answered,  shak 
ing  his  head  and  frowning.     Throughout 
the  whole  of  that  strange  meal  these  were 
the  only  words  spoken. 
34 


A  Nautical  Education 

When  Wilbur  came  on  deck  again  he 
noted  that  the  Bertha  Millner  had  already 
left  the  whistling-buoy  astern.  Off  to 
the  east,  her  sails  just  showing  above  the 
waves,  was  a  pilot-boat  with  the  number 
7  on  her  mainsail.  The  evening  was 
closing  in ;  the  Farallones  were  in  plain 
sight  dead  ahead.  Far  behind,  in  a  mass 
of  shadow  just  bluer  than  the  sky,  he 
could  make  out  a  few  twinkling  lights — 
San  Francisco. 

Half  an  hour  later  Kitchell  came  on 
deck  from  his  supper  in  cabin  aft.  He 
glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  mainland, 
now  almost  out  of  sight,  then  took  the 
wheel  from  one  of  the  Chinamen  and 
commanded,  "  Ease  off  y'r  fore  an'  main 
sheets."  The  hands  eased  away  and  the 
schooner  played  off  before  the  wind. 

The  staysail  was  set.  The  Bertha 
Millner  headed  to  southwest,  bowing 
easily  ahead  of  a  good  eight-knot  breeze. 

Next  came  the  order  "All  hands  aft!" 
and  Wilbur  and  his  mates  betook  them- 
35 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

selves  to  the  quarterdeck.  Charlie  took 
the  wheel,  and  he  and  Kitchell  began  to 
choose  the  men  for  their  watches,  just  as 
Wilbur  remembered  to  have  chosen  sides 
for  baseball  during  his  school  days. 

"  Sonny,  I'll  choose  you ;  you're  on  my 
watch,"  said  the  Captain  to  Wilbur,  "and 
I  will  assoom  the  ree-sponsibility  of  you 
nautical  eddoocation. " 

"I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once,"  be 
gan  Wilbur,  "that  I'm  no  sailor." 

"But  you  will  be,  soon,"  answered  the 
Captain,  at  once  soothing  and  threaten 
ing;  "you  will  be,  Mister  Lilee  of  the 
Vallee,  you  kin  lay  to  it,  as  how  you  will 
be  one  of  the  best  sailor  men  along  the 
front,  as  our  dear  friend  Jim  says.  Be 
fore  I  git  thoo  with  you,  you'll  be  a 
sailor  man  or  shark- bait,  I  can  promise 
you.  You're  on  my  watch;  step  over 
here,  son." 

The  watches  were  divided,  Charlie  and 
three  other  Chinamen  on  the  port,  Kitch 
ell,  Wilbur,  and  two  Chinamen  on  the 


A  Nautical  Education 

starboard.       The    men    trooped    forward 
again. 

The  tiny  world  of  the  schooner  had 
lapsed  to  quiet.  The  Bertha  Millner  was 
now  clear  of  the  land,  that  lay  like  a  blur 
of  faintest  purple  smoke — ever  growing 
fainter — low  in  the  east.  The  Faral- 
lones  showed  but  their  shoulders  above 
the  horizon.  The  schooner  was  standing 
well  out  from  shore — even  beyond  the 
track  of  the  coasters  and  passenger 
steamers — to  catch  the  trades  from  the 
northwest.  The  sun  was  setting  royally, 
and  the  floor  of  the  ocean  shimmered  like 
mosaic.  The  sea  had  gone  down  and  the 
fury  of  the  bar  was  a  thing  forgotten.  It 
was  perceptibly  wrarmer. 

On  board,  the  two  watches  mingled  for 
ward,  smoking  opium  and  playing  a  game 
that  looked  like  checkers.  Three  of  them 
were  washing  down  the  decks  with  kaiar 
brooms.  For  the  first  time  since  he  had 
come  on  board  Wilbur  heard  the  sound 
of  their  voices. 

37 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

The  evening  was  magnificent.  Nevei 
to  Wilbur's  eyes  had  the  Pacific  appeared 
so  vast,  so  radiant,  so  divinely  beautiful. 
A  star  or  two  burnt  slowly  through  that 
part  of  the  sky  where  the  pink  began  to 
fade  into  the  blue.  Charlie  went  forward 
and  set  the  side  lights — red  on  the  port 
rigging,  green  on  the  starboard.  As  he 
passed  Wilbur,  who  was  leaning  over  the 
rail  and  watching  the  phosphorus  flashing 
just  under  the  surface,  he  said : 

"Hey,  you  go  talkee-talk  one-piecey 
Boss,  savvy  Boss — chin-chin." 

Wilbur  went  aft  and  came  up  on  the 
poop,  where  Kitchell  stood  at  the  wheel, 
smoking  an  inverted  "Tamer's  Delight." 

"Now,  son,"  began  Kitchell,  "I 
natch'ly  love  you  so  that  I'm  goin'  to  do 
you  a  reel  favor,  do  you  twig  ?  I'm  goin' 
to  allow  you  to  berth  aft  in  the  cabin, 
'long  o'  me  an'  Charlie,  an'  beesides 
you  can  make  free  of  my  quarterdeck. 
Mebbee  you  ain't  used  to  the  ways  of 
sailor  men  just  yet,  but  you  can  lay  it  to 
38 


A  Nautical  Education 

that  those  two  are  reel  concessions,  savvy? 
I  ain't  a  mush-head,  like  mee  dear  friend 
Jim.  You  ain't  no  water-front  swine,  I 
can  guess  that  with  one  hand  tied  bee- 
hind  me.  You're  a  toff,  that's  what  you 
are,  and  your  lines  has  been  laid  for  toffs. 
I  ain't  askin'  you  no  questions,  but  you 
got  brains,  an'  I  figger  on  gettin'  more 
outa  you  by  lettin'  you  have  y'r  head  a 
bit.  But  mind,  now,  you  get  gay  once, 
sonny,  or  try  to  flimflam  me,  or  forget 
that  I'm  the  boss  of  the  bathtub,  an' 
strike  me  blind,  I'll  cut  you  open,  an'  you 
can  lay  to  that,  son.  Now,  then,  here's 
the  game :  You  work  this  boat  'long  with 
the  coolies,  an'  take  my  orders,  an'  walk 
chalk,  an'  I'll  teach  you  navigation, 
an'  make  this  cruise  as  easy  as  how- 
do-you-do.  You  don't,  an'  I'll  man 
handle  you  till  y'r  bones  come  throo  y'r 
hide." 

"I've  no  choice  in  the  matter,"  said 
Wilbur.  "I've  got  to  make  the  best  of  a 
bad  situation." 

39 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

"I  ree-marked  as  how  you  had  brains," 
muttered  the  Captain. 

"But  there's  one  thing,"  continued 
Wilbur;  "if  I'm  to  have  my  head  a  little, 
as  you  say,  you'll  find  we  can  get  along 
better  if  you  put  me  to  rights  about  this 
whole  business.  Why  was  I  brought 
aboard,  why  are  there  only  Chinese  along, 
where  are  we  going,  what  are  we  going 
to  do,  and  how  long  are  we  going  to  be 
gone?" 

Kitchell  spat  over  the  side,  and  then 
sucked  the  nicotine  from  his  mustache. 

"Well,"  he  said,  resuming  his  pipe, 
"  it's  like  this,  son.  This  ship  belongs  to 
one  of  the  Six  Chinese  Companies  of 
Chinatown  in  Frisco.  Charlie,  here,  is 
one  of  the  shareholders  in  the  business. 
We  go  down  here  twice  a  year  off  Cape 
Sain'  Lucas,  Lower  California,  an'  fish  for 
blue  sharks,  or  white,  if  we  kin  ketch 
'em.  We  get  the  livers  of  these  an'  try 
out  the  oil,  an'  we  bring  back  that  same 
oil,  an'  the  Chinamen  sell  it  all  over  San 
40 


A  Nautical  Education 

Francisco  as  simon-pure  cod-liver  oil, 
savvy?  An'  it  pays  like  a  nitrate  bed. 
I  come  in  because  it's  a  Custom-House 
regulation  that  no  coolie  can  take  a  boat 
out  of  Frisco." 

"And  how  do  I  come  in?"  asked  Wil 
bur. 

"  Mee  dear  friend  Jim  put  a  knock-me- 
out  drop  into  your  Manhattan  cocktail. 
It's  a  capsule  filled  with  a  drug.  You 
were  shanghaied,  son,"  said  the  Captain, 
blandly. 

About  an  hour  later  Wilbur  turned  in. 
Kitchell  showed  him  his  bunk  with  its 
"  donkey's  breakfast"  and  single  ill-smell 
ing  blanket.  It  was  located  under  the 
companion-way  that  led  down  into  the 
cabin.  Kitchell  bunked  on  one  side, 
Charlie  on  the  other.  A  hacked  deal 
table,  covered  with  oilcloth  and  ironed  to 
the  floor,  a  swinging-lamp,  two  chairs,  a 
rack  of  books,  a  chest  or  two,  and  a  flar 
ing  picture  cut  from  the  advertisement  of 
41 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

a  ballet,  was  the  room's  inventory  in  the 
matter  of  furniture  and  ornament. 

Wilbur  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk  be 
fore  undressing,  reviewing  the  extraordi 
nary  events  of  the  day.  In  a  moment  he 
was  aware  of  a  movement  in  one  of  the 
other  two  bunks,  and  presently  made  out 
Charlie  lying  on  his  side  and  holding  in 
the  flame  of  an  alcohol  lamp  a  skewer  on 
which  some  brown  and  sticky  stuff  boiled 
and  sizzled.  He  transferred  the  stuff  to 
the  bowl  of  a  huge  pipe  and  drew  on 
it  noisily  once  or  twice.  In  another 
moment  he  had  sunk  back  in  his  bunk, 
nearly  senseless,  but  with  a  long  breath 
of  an  almost  blissful  contentment. 

"Beast!"  muttered  Wilbur,  with  pro 
found  disgust. 

He  threw  off  his  oilskin  coat  and  felt 
in  the  pocket  of  his  waistcoat  (which  he 
had  retained  when  he  had  changed  his 
clothes  in  the  fo'c'stle)  for  his  watch. 
He  drew  it  out.  It  was  just  nine 
o'clock.  All  at  once  an  idea  occurred  to 
42 


A  Nautical  Education 

him.  He  fumbled  in  another  pocket  of 
the  waistcoat  and  brought  out  one  of  his 
calling- cards. 

For  a  moment  Wilbur  remained  mo 
tionless,  seated  on  the  bunk-ledge,  smil 
ing  grimly,  while  his  glance  wandered 
now  to  the  sordid  cabin  of  the  Bertha 
Millner  and  the  opium-drugged  coolie 
sprawled  on  the  "donkey's  breakfast,"  and 
now  to  the  card  in  his  hand  on  which  a 
few  hours  ago  he  had  written : 

"First  waltz — Jo." 


43 


Ill 

The  Lady  Letty 

ANOTHER  day  passed,  then  two.  Be 
fore  Wilbur  knew  it  he  had  settled 
himself  to  his  new  life,  and  woke  one 
morning  to  the  realization  that  he  was 
positively  enjoying  himself.  Daily  the 
weather  grew  warmer.  The  fifth  day  out 
from  San  Francisco  it  was  actually  hot. 
The  pitch  grew  soft  in  the  Bertlia  Mill- 
tier's  deck  seams,  the  masts  sweated  resin. 
The  Chinamen  went  about  the  decks 
wearing  but  their  jeans  and  blouses. 
Kitchell  had  long  since  abandoned  his 
coat  and  vest.  Wilbur's  oilskins  became 
intolerable,  and  he  was  at  last  constrained 
to  trade  his  pocket-knife  to  Charlie  for  a 
suit  of  jeans  and  wicker  sandals,  such  as 
44 


The  Lady  Letty 

the    coolies  wore — and   odd   enough   he 
looked  in  them. 

The  Captain  instructed  him  in  steering, 
and  even  promised  to  show  him  the  use 
of  the  sextant  and  how  to  take  an  obser 
vation  in  the  fake  short  and  easy  coasting 
style  of  navigation.  Furthermore,  he 
showed  him  how  to  read  the  log  and  the 
manner  of  keeping  the  dead  reckoning. 

During  most  of  his  watches  Wilbur 
was  engaged  in  painting  the  inside  of  the 
cabin,  door  panels,  lintels,  and  the  few 
scattered  mouldings;  and  toward  the 
middle  of  the  first  week  out,  when  the 
Bertha  Millner  was  in  the  latitude  of 
Point  Conception,  he  and  three  China 
men,  under  Kitchell's  direction,  ratlined 
down  the  forerigging  and  affixed  the 
crow's  nest  upon  the  for'mast.  The  next 
morning,  during  Charlie's  watch  on  deck, 
a  Chinaman  was  sent  up  into  the  crow's 
nest,  and  from  that  time  on  there  was 
always  a  lookout  maintained  from  the 
masthead. 

45 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

More  than  once  Wilbur  looked  around 
him  at  the  empty  coruscating  indigo  of 
the  ocean  floor,  wondering  at  the  neces 
sity  of  the  lookout,  and  finally  expressed 
his  curiosity  to  Kitchell.  The  Captain 
had  by  now  taken  not  a  little  to  Wilbur ; 
at  first  for  the  sake  of  a  white  man's  com 
pany,  and  afterward  because  he  began 
to  place  a  certain  vague  reliance  upon 
Wilbur's  judgment.  Kitchell  had  ree- 
inarked  as  how  he  had  brains. 

"Well,  you  see,  son,"  Kitchell  had  ex 
plained  to  Wilbur,  "  os-tensiblee  we  are 
after  shark-liver  oil  — and  so  we  are ;  but 
also  we  are  on  any  lay  that  turns  up; 
ready  for  any  game,  from  wrecking  to 
barratry.  Strike  me,  if  I  haven't  thought 
of  scuttling  the  dough-dish  for  her  insoor- 
ance.  There's  regular  trade,  son,  to  be 
done  in  ships,  and  then  there's  pickin's 
an'  pickin's,  an'  pickin's.  Lord,  the 
ocean's  rich  with  pickin's.  Do  you 
know  there's  millions  made  out  of 
the  day-bree  and  refuse  of  a  big  city? 
46 


The  Lady  Letty 

How  about  an  ocean's  day-bree,  just 
chew  on  that  notion  a  turn;  an'  as 
fur  a  lookout,  lemmee  tell  you,  son,  cast 
your  eye  out  yon,"  and  he  swept  the 
sea  with  a  forearm;  "nothin',  hey,  so  it 
looks,  but  lemmee  tell  you,  son,  there 
ain't  no  manner  of  place  on  the  ball  of 
dirt  where  you're  likely  to  run  up  afoul 
of  so  many  things — unexpected  things — 
as  at  sea.  When  you're  'Clear  o'  land  lay 
to  this  here  pree-cep',  'A  million  to  one 
on  the  unexpected.' " 

The  next  day  fell  almost  dead  calm. 
The  hale,  lusty -lunged  nor' wester  that 
had  snorted  them  forth  from  the  Golden 
Gate  had  lapsed  to  a  zephyr,  the  schooner 
rolled  lazily  southward  with  the  leisurely 
nonchalance  of  a  grazing  ox.  At  noon, 
just  after  dinner,  a  few  cat's-paws  curdled 
the  milky-blue  whiteness  of  the  glassy 
surface,  and  the  water  once  more  began 
to  talk  beneath  the  bowsprit.  It  was 
very  hot.  The  sun  spun  silently  like  a 
spinning  brass  discus  over  the  mainmast. 
47 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

On  the  fo'c's'le  head  the  Chinamen  were 
asleep  or  smoking  opium.  It  was 
Charlie's  watcn.  Kitchell  dozed  in  his 
hammock  in  the  shadow  of  the  main- 
sheet.  Wilbur  was  below  tinkering  with 
his  paint-pot  about  the  cabin.  The  still 
ness  was  profound.  It  was  the  stillness 
of  the  summer  sea  at  high  noon. 

The  lookout  in  the  crow's  nest  broke 
the  quiet. 

"Hy-yah,  hy-yah!"  he  cried,  leaning 
from  the  barrel  and  calling  through  an 
arched  palm.  "  Hy-yah,  one,  two,  plenty, 
many  tortle,  topside  wattah ;  hy-yah,  all- 
same  tortle." 

"Hello,  hello!"  cried  the  Captain,  roll 
ing  from  his  hammock.  "Turtle? 
Where-away?" 

"I  tink-um  'bout  quallah  mile,  meb- 
bee,  four-piecee  tortle  all-same  weatha 
bow." 

"Turtle,  hey?  Down  y'r  wheel,  Jim, 
haul  y'r  jib  to  win' ward,"  he  commanded 
the  man  at  the  wheel;  then  to  the  men 
48 


The  Lady  Letty 

forward :  "  Get  the  dory  overboard.  Son, 
Charlie,  and  you,  Wing,  tumble  in. 
Wake  up  now  and  see  you  stay  so." 

The  dory  was  swung  over  the  side,  and 
the  men  dropped  into  her  and  took  their 
places  at  the  oars.  "Give  way,"  cried 
the  Captain,  settling  himself  in  the  bow 
with  the  gaff  in  his  hand.  "  Hey,  Jim !" 
he  shouted  to  the  lookout  far  above, 
"hey,  lay  our  course  for  us."  The  look 
out  nodded,  the  oars  fell,  and  the  dory 
shot  forward  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  the  lookout. 

"Kin  you  row,  son?"  asked  Kitchell, 
with  sudden  suspicion.  Wilbur  smiled. 

"You  ask  Charlie  and  Wing  to  ship 
their  oars  and  give  me  a  pair."  The  Cap 
tain  complied,  hesitating. 

"Now,  what,"  he  said  grimly,  "now, 
what  do  you  think  you're  going  to  do, 
sonny?" 

"  I'm  going  to  show  you  the  Bob  Cook 
stroke  we  used  in  our  boat  in  '95,  when 
we  beat  Harvard,"  answered  Wilbur. 
4  49 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Kitchell  gazed  doubtfully  at  the  first 
few  strokes,  then  with  growing  interest 
watched  the  tremendous  reach,  the  pow 
erful  knee-drive,  the  swing,  the  easy 
catch,  and  the  perfect  recover.  The  dory 
was  cutting  the  water  like  a  gasoline 
launch,  and  between  strokes  there  was 
the  least  possible  diminishing  of  the 
speed. 

"I'm  a  bit  out  of  form  just  now,"  re 
marked  Wilbur,  "and  I'm  used  to  the 
sliding  seat ;  but  I  guess  it'll  do. "  Kitch 
ell  glanced  at  the  human  machine  that 
once  was  No.  5  in  the  Yale  boat  and  then 
at  the  water  hissing  from  the  dory's 
bows.  "  My  Gawd !"  he  said,  under  his 
breath.  He  spat  over  the  bows  and 
sucked  the  nicotine  from  his  mustache, 
thoughtfully. 

"I  ree-marked,"  he  observed,  "as  how 
you  had  brains,  my  son." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Captain,  who 
was  standing  in  the  dory's  bow  and  alter 
nately  conning  the  ocean's  surface  and 
50 


N  The  Lady  Letty 

looking  back  to  the  Chinaman  standing 
on  the  schooner's  masthead,  uttered  an 
exclamation : 

"Steady,  ship  your  oars,  quiet  now, 
quiet,  you  damn  fools!  We're  right  on 
'em — four,  by  Gawd,  an'  big  as  dinin'- 
tables !" 

The  oars  were  shipped.  The  dory's 
speed  dwindled.  "  Out  your  paddles,  sit 
on  the  gun'l,  and  paddle  ee-asy."  The 
hands  obeyed.  The  Captain's  voice 
dropped  to  a  whisper.  His  back  was 
toward  them  and  he  gestured  with  one 
free  hand.  Looking  out  over  the  water 
from  his  seat  on  the  gun'l,  Wilbur  could 
make  out  a  round,  greenish  mass  like  a 
patch  of  floating  seaweed,  just  under  the 
surface,  some  sixty  yards  ahead. 

"Easy  sta'board,"  whispered  the  Cap 
tain  under  his  elbow.  "Go  ahead,  port; 
e-e-easy  all,  steady,  steady." 

The  affair  began  to  assume  the  inten 
sity  of  a  little  drama — a  little  drama  of 
midocean.  In  spite  of  himself,  Wilbur 
51 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

was  excited.  He  even  found  occasion  to 
observe  that  the  life  was  not  so  bad,  after 
all.  This  was  as  good  fun  as  stalking 
deer.  The  dory  moved  forward  by 
inches.  KitcheH's  whisper  was  as  faint 
as  a  dying  infant's  :  "  Steady  all,  s-stead- 
ee,  sh-stead " 

He  lunged  forward  sharply  with  the 
gaff,  and  shouted  aloud :  "  I  got  him — grab 
holt  his  tail  flippers,  you  fool  swabs; 
grab  holt  quick — don't  you  leggo — got 
him  there,  Charlie?  If  he  gets  away, 
you  swine,  I'll  rip  y'  open  with  the  gaff 
—  heave  now — heave — there — there  — 
soh,  stand  clear  his  nippers.  Strike  me ! 
he's  a  whacker.  I  thought  he  was  going 
to  get  away.  Saw  me  just  as  I  swung 
the  gaff,  an'  ducked  his  nut." 

Over  the  side,  bundled  without  cere 
mony  into  the  boat,  clawing,  thrashing, 
clattering,  and  blowing  like  the  exhaust 
of  a  donkey-engine,  tumbled  the  great 
green  turtle,  his  wet,  green  shield  of 
shell  three  feet  from  edge  to  edge,  the 
52 


The  Lady   Letty 

gaff  firmly  transfixed  in  his  body,  just 
under  the  fore-flipper.  From  under  his 
shell  protruded  his  snake-like  head  and 
neck,  withered  like  that  of  an  old  man. 
He  was  waving  his  head  from  side  to  side, 
the  jaws  snapping  like  a  snapped  silk 
handkerchief.  Kitchell  thrust  him  away 
with  a  paddle.  The  turtle  craned  his 
neck,  and,  catching  the  bit  of  wood  in 
his  jaw,  bit  it  in  two  in  a  single  grip. 

"  I  tol'  you  so,  I  tol*  you  to  stand  clear 
his  snapper.  If  that  had  been  your  shin 
now,  eh?  Hello,  what's  that?" 

Faintly  across  the  water  came  a  pro 
longed  hallooing  from  the  schooner. 
Kitchell  stood  up  in  the  dory,  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hat. 

"  What's  biting  'em  now?"  he  muttered, 
with  the  uneasiness  of  a  captain  away 
from  his  ship.  "  Oughta  left  Charlie  on 
board — or  you,  son.  Who's  doin'  that 
yellin',  I  can't  make  out." 

"  Up  in  the  crow's  nest,"  exclaimed  Wil 
bur.  "  It's  Jim,  see,  he's  waving  his  arms. " 
53 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"Well,  whaduz  he  wave  his  dam'  fool 
arms  for?"  growled  Kitchell,  angry  be 
cause  something  was  going  forward  he 
did  not  understand. 

"  There,  he's  shouting  again.  Listen — 
I  can't  make  out  what  he's  yelling." 

"He'll  yell  to  a  different  pipe  when  I 
get  my  grip  of  him.  I'll  twist  the  head 
of  that  swab  till  he'll  have  to  walk 
back'ard  to  see  where  he's  goin'.  Wha 
duz  he  wave  his  arms  for — whaduz  he 
yell  like  a  dam'  philly-loo  bird  for? 
What's  him  say,  Charlie?" 

"Jim  heap  sing,  no  can  tell.  Meb- 
bee  —  tinkum  sing,  come  back  chop- 
chop/ 

"We'll  see.  Oars  out,  men,  give  way. 
Now,  son,  put  a  little  o'  that  Yale  stingo 
in  the  stroke." 

In  the  crow's  nest  Jim  still  yelled  and 
waved  like  one  distraught,  while  the  dory 
returned  at  a  smart  clip  toward  the 
schooner.  Kitchell  lathered  with  fury. 

"Oh-h,"  he  murmured  softly  through 
54 


The  Lady  Letty 

his  gritted  teeth.  "  Jess  lemmee  lay  mee 
two  hands  afoul  of  you  wunst,  you  gib 
bering,  yellow  philly-loo  bird,  believe 
me,  you'll  dance.  Shut  up!"  he  roared; 
"shut  up,  you  crazy  do-do,  ain't  we  com 
ing  fast  as  we  can?" 

The  dory  bumped  alongside,  and  the 
Captain  was  over  the  rail  like  quicksilver. 
The  hands  were  all  in  the  bow,  looking 
and  pointing  to  the  west.  Jim  slid  down 
the  ratlines,  bubbling  over  with  sup 
pressed  news.  Before  his  feet  had 
touched  the  deck  Kitchell  had  kicked 
him  into  the  stays  again,  fulminating 
blasphemies. 

"Sing!"  he  shouted,  as  the  Chinaman 
clambered  away  like  a  bewildered  ape; 
"sing  a  little  more.  I  would  if  I  were 
you.  Why  don't  you  sing  and  wave,  you 
dam'  fool  philly-loo  bird?" 

"Yas,  sah,"  answered  the  coolie. 

"What  you  yell  for?  Charlie,  ask 
him  whaffo  him  sing." 

"I  tink-um  ship,"  answered  Charlie 
55 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

calmly,  looking  out  over  the  starboard 
quarter. 

"Ship!" 

"Him  velly  sick,"  hazarded  the  China 
man  from  the  ratlines,  adding  a  sentence 
in  Chinese  to  Charlie. 

"He  says  he  tink-um  ship  sick,  all 
same;  ask  um  something — ship  velly 
sick. " 

By  this  time  the  Captain,  Wilbur,  and 
all  on  board  could  plainly  make  out  a 
sail  some  eight  miles  off  the  starboard 
bow.  Even  at  that  distance,  and  to  eyes 
so  inexperienced  as  those  of  Wilbur,  it 
needed  but  a  glance  to  know  that  some 
thing  was  wrong  with  her.  It  was  not 
that  she  failed  to  ride  the  waves  with 
even  keel,  it  was  not  that  her  rigging  was 
in  disarray,  nor  that  her  sails  were  disor 
dered.  Her  distance  was  too  great  to 
make  out  such  details.  But  in  precisely 
the  same  manner  as  a  trained  physician 
glances  at  a  doomed  patient,  and  from 
that  indefinable  look  in  the  face  of  him 
56 


The  Lady  Letty 

and  the  eyes  of  him  pronounces  the  ver 
dict  "death,"  so  Kitchell  took  in  the 
stranger  with  a  single  comprehensive 
glance,  and  exclaimed : 

"Wreck!" 

"Yas,  sah.     I  tink-um  velly  sick." 

"  Oh,  go  to  '11,  or  go  below  and  fetch 
up  my  glass — hustle !" 

The  glass  was  brought.  "Son,"  ex 
claimed  Kitchell — "where  is  that  man 
with  the  brains?  Son,  come  aloft  here 
with  me."  The  two  clambered  up  the 
ratlines  to  the  crow's  nest.  Kitchell  ad 
justed  the  glass. 

"She's  a  bark,"  he  muttered,  "iron 
built — about  seven  hundred  tons,  I 
guess — in  distress.  There's  her  ensign 
upside  down  at  the  mizz'nhead — looks 
like  Norway — an'  her  distress  signals  on 
the  spanker  gaff.  Take  a  blink  at  her, 
son — what  do  you  make  her  out?  Lord, 
she's  ridin'  high." 

Wilbur  took  the  glass,  catching  the 
stranger  after  several  clumsy  attempts. 
57 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

She  was,  as  Captain  Kitchell  had  an 
nounced,  a  bark,  and,  to  judge  by  her 
flag,  evidently  Norwegian. 

"How  she  rolls!"  muttered  Wilbur. 

"That's  what  I  can't  make  out,"  an 
swered  Kitchell.  "A  bark  such  as  she 
ain't  ought  to  roll  thata  way;  her  bal 
last' d  steady  her." 

"What's  the  flags  on  that  boom  aft — 
one's  red  and  white  and  square -shaped, 
and  the  other's  the  same  color,  only 
swallow-tail  in  shape?" 

"That's  H.  B.,  meanin' :  'I  am  in  need 
of  assistance.'  * 

"Well,  where's  the  crew?  I  don't  see 
anybody  on  board." 

"Oh,  they're  there  right  enough." 

"Then  they're  pretty  well  concealed 
about  the  premises,"  returned  Wilbur,  as 
he  passed  the  glass  to  the  Captain. 

"She  does  seem  kinda  empty,"  said 
the  Captain  in  a  moment,  with  a  sudden 
show  of  interest  that  Wilbur  failed  to 
understand. 

58 


The  Lady  Letty 

"An*  where's  her  boats?"  continued 
Kitchell.  "I  don't  just  quite  make  out 
any  boats  at  all."  There  was  a  long 
silence. 

"  Seems  to  be  a  sort  of  haze  over  her, " 
observed  Wilbur. 

"  I  noticed  that,  air  kinda  quivers  oily- 
like.  No  boats,  no  boats — an'  I  can't 
see  anybody  aboard."  Suddenly  Kitchell 
lowered  the  glass  and  turned  to  Wilbur. 
He  was  a  different  man.  There  was  a 
new  shine  in  his  eyes,  a  wicked  line  ap 
peared  over  the  nose,  the  jaw  grew  salient, 
prognathous. 

"Son,"  he  exclaimed, gimleting  Wilbur 
with  his  contracted  eyes;  "I  have  ree- 
marked  as  how  you  had  brains.  I  kin 
fool  the  coolies,  but  I  can't  fool  you.  It 
looks  to  me  as  if  that  bark  yonder  was  a 
derelict;  an'  do  you  know  what  that 
means  to  us?  Chaw  on  it  a  turn." 

"A  derelict?" 

"If  there's  a  crew  on  board  they're 
concealed  from  the  public  gaze  —  an' 
59 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

where  are  the  boats  then?  I  figger  she's 
an  abandoned  derelict.  Do  you  know 
what  that  means  for  us — for  you  and  I? 
It  means,"  and  gripping  Wilbur  by  the 
shoulders,  he  spoke  the  word  into  his  face 
with  a  savage  intensity.  "  It  means  sal 
vage,  do  you  savvy? — salvage,  salvage. 
Do  you  figger  what  salvage  on  a  seven- 
hundred-tonner  would  come  to?  Well, 
just  lemmee  drop  it  into  your  think  tank, 
an'  lay  to  what  I  say.  It's  all  the  ways 
from  fifty  to  seventy  thousand  dollars, 
whatever  her  cargo  is ;  call  it  sixty  thou 
sand — thirty  thou'  apiece.  Oh,  I  don't 
know!"  he  exclaimed,  lapsing  to  land- 
man's  slang.  "  Wha'd  I  say  about  a  mil 
lion  to  one  on  the  unexpected  at  sea?" 

"Thirty  thousand!"  exclaimed  Wilbur, 
without  thought  as  yet. 

"'Now  y'r  singin'  songs,"  cried  the  Cap 
tain.  "Listen  to  me,  son,"  he  went  on, 
rapidly  shutting  up  the  glass  and  thrust 
ing  it  back  in  the  case;  "my  name's 
Kitchell,  and  I'm  hog  right  through." 
60 


The  Lady   Letty 

He  emphasized  the  words  with  a  levelled 
forefinger,  his  eyes  flashing.  H — 0 — G 
spells  very  truly  yours,  Alvinza  Kitchell 
— ninety -nine  swine  an'  me  make  a  hun 
dred  swine.  I'm  a  shoat  with  both  feet 
in  the  trough,  first,  last,  an'  always.  If 
that  bark's  abandoned,  an'  I  says  she  is, 
she's  ours.  I'm  out  for  anything  that 
there's  stuff  in.  I  guess  I'm  more  of  a 
beach-comber  by  nature  than  anything 
else.  If  she's  abandoned  she  belongs  to 
us.  To  '11  with  this  coolie  game.  We'll 
go  beach-combin',  you  an'  I.  We'll 
board  that  bark  and  work  her  into  the 
nearest  port — San  Diego,  I  guess — and 
get  the  salvage  on  her  if  we  have  to  swim 
in  her.  Are  you  with  me?"  he  held  out 
his  hand.  The  man  was  positively  trem 
bling  from  head  to  heel.  It  was  impos 
sible  to  resist  the  excitement  of  the  situa 
tion,  its  novelty — the  high  crow's  nest  of 
the  schooner,  the  keen  salt  air,  the 
Chinamen  grouped  far  below,  the  indigo 
of  the  warm  ocean,  and  out  yonder  the 
61 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

forsaken  derelict,  rolling  her  light  hull 
till  the  garboard  streak  flashed  in  the  sun. 

"Well,  of  course,  I'm  with  you,  Cap," 
exclaimed  Wilbur,  gripping  Kitchell's 
hand.  "  When  there's  thirty  thousand  to 
be  had  for  the  asking  I  guess  I'm  a 
'na'chel  bawn'  beach-comber  myself." 

"  Now,  nothing  about  this  to  the  cool 
ies." 

"But  how  will  you  make  out  with 
your  owners,  the  Six  Companies  ?  Aren't 
you  bound  to  bring  the  Bertha  in?" 

"  Eot  my  owners !"  exclaimed  Kitchell. 
"I  ain't  a  skipper  of  no  oil-boat  any 
longer.  I'm  a  beach-comber."  He  fixed 
the  wallowing  bark  with  glistening  eyes. 
"Gawd  strike  me,"  he  murmured,  "ain'r 
she  a  daisy?  It's  a  little  Klondike. 
Come  on,  son." 

The  two  went  down  the  ratlines,  and 
Kitchell  ordered  a  couple  of  the  hands 
into  the  dory  that  had  been  rowing  astern. 
He  and  Wilbur  followed.  Charlie  was 
left  on  board,  with  direction  to  lay  the 
62 


The  Lady  Letty 

schooner  to.  The  dory  flew  over  the 
water,  Wilbur  setting  the  stroke.  In  a 
few  moments  she  was  well  up  with  the 
bark.  Though  a  larger  boat  than  the 
Bertha  Millner,  she  was  rolling  in  la 
mentable  fashion,  and  every  laboring 
heave  showed  her  bottom  encrusted  with 
barnacles  and  seaweed. 

Her  fore  and  main  tops'ls  and  to'gal- 
lants'ls  were  set,  as  also  were  her  lower 
stays'ls  and  royals.  But  the  braces 
seemed  to  have  parted,  and  the  yards  were 
swinging  back  and  forth  in  their  ties. 
The  spanker  was  brailed  up,  and  the 
spanker  boom  thrashed  idly  over  the  poop 
as  the  bark  rolled  and  rolled  and  rolled. 
The  mainmast  was  working  in  its  shoe, 
the  rigging  and  backstays  sagged.  An  air 
of  abandonment,  of  unspeakable  loneli 
ness,  of  abomination  hung  about  her. 
Never  had  Wilbur  seen  anything  more 
utterly  alone.  Within  three  lengths  the 
Captain  rose  in  his  place  and  shouted: 

"Bark  ahoy!"  There  was  no  answer. 
63 


Moran  of  the   Lady  Letty 

Thrice  he  repeated  the  call,  and  thrice 
the  dismal  thrashing  of  the  spanker  boom 
and  the  flapping  of  the  sails  was  the  only 
answer.  Kitchell  turned  to  Wilbur  in 
triumph.  "I  guess  she's  ours,"  he  whis 
pered.  They  were  now  close  enough  to 
make  out  the  bark's  name  upon  her 
counter.  Lady  Letty,  and  Wilbur  was 
in  the  act  of  reading  it  aloud,  when  a 
huge  brown  dorsal  fin,  like  the  triangular 
sail  of  a  lugger,  cut  the  water  between 
the  dory  and  the  bark. 

"Shark!"  said  Kitchell;  "and  there's 
another!"  he  exclaimed  in  the  next  in 
stant,  "and  another!  Strike  me,  the 
water's  alive  with  'em !  There's  a  stiff 
on  the  bark,  you  can  lay  to  that" ;  and  at 
that,  acting  on  some  strange  impulse,  he 
called  again,  "Bark  ahoy!"  There  was 
no  response. 

The  dory  was  now  well  up  to  the  dere 
lict,  and  pretty  soon  a  prolonged  and  vi 
bratory  hissing  noise,  strident,  insistent, 
smote  upon  their  ears. 
64 


The  Lady  Letty 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Wilbur, 
perplexed.  The  Captain  shook  his  head, 
and  just  then,  as  the  bark  rolled  almost 
to  her  scuppers  in  their  direction,  a 
glimpse  of  the  deck  was  presented  to  their 
view.  It  was  only  a  glimpse,  gone  on 
the  instant,  as  the  bark  rolled  back  to 
port,  but  it  was  time  enough  for  Wilbur 
and  the  Captain  to  note  the  parted  and 
open  seams  and  the  deck  bulging,  and  in 
one  corner  blown  up  and  splintered. 

The  Captain  smote  a  thigh. 

"Coal!"  he  cried.  "Anthracite  coal. 
The  coal  he't  up  and  generated  gas,  of 
course — no  fire,  y'understand,  just  gas — 
gas  blew  up  the  deck — no  way  of  stop 
ping  combustion.  Naturally  they  had  to 
cut  for  it.  Smell  the  gas,  can't  you? 
No  wonder  she's  hissing — no  wonder  she 
rolled — cargo  goes  off  in  gas — and  what's 
to  weigh  her  down?  I  was  wondering 
what  could  'a  wrecked  her  in  this  weather. 
Lord,  it's  as  plain  as  Billy-b'damn." 

The    dory    was    alongside.      Kitchell 
5  65 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

watched  his  chance,  and  as  the  bark 
rolled  down  caught  the  mainyard-brace 
hanging  in  a  bight  over  the  rail  and 
swung  himself  to  the  deck.  "Look 
sharp!"  he  called,  as  Wilbur  followed. 
"  It  won't  do  for  you  to  fall  among  them 
shark,  son.  Just  look  at  the  hundreds 
of  'em.  There's  a  stiff  on  board,  sure." 

Wilbur  steadied  himself  on  the  sway 
ing  broken  deck,  choking  against  the  reek 
of  coal-gas  that  hissed  upward  on  every 
hand.  The  heat  was  almost  like  a  fur 
nace.  Everything  metal  was  intolerable 
to  the  touch. 

"She's  abandoned,  sure,"  muttered  the 
captain.  "Look,"  and  he  pointed  to  the 
empty  chocks  on  the  house  and  the 
severed  lashings.  "Oh,  it's  a  haul,  son; 
it's  a  haul,  an'  you  can  lay  to  that. 
Now,  then,  cabin  first,"  and  he  started 
aft. 

But  it  was  impossible  to  go  into  the 
cabin.  The  moment  the  door  was  opened 
suffocating  billows  of  gas  rushed  out  and 


The  Lady  Letty 

beat  them  back.  On  the  third  trial  the 
Captain  staggered  out,  almost  overcome 
with  its  volume. 

•'  Can't  get  in  there  for  a  while  yet,"  he 
gasped,  "  but  I  saw  the  stiff  on  the  floor 
by  the  table;  looks  like  the  old  man. 
He's  spit  his  false  teeth  out.  I  knew 
there  was  a  stiff  aboard." 

"Then  there's  more  than  one,"  said 
Wilbur.  "  See  there !"  From  behind  the 
wheel -box  in  the  stern  protruded  a  hand 
and  forearm  in  an  oilskin  sleeve. 

Wilbur  ran  up,  peered  over  the  little 
space  between  the  wheel  and  the  wheel- 
box,  and  looked  straight  into  a  pair  of 
eyes — eyes  that  were  alive.  Kitchell 
came  up. 

"  One  left,  anyhow,"  he  muttered,  look 
ing  over  Wilbur's  shoulder;  "sailor  man, 
though;  can't  interfere  with  our  salvage. 
The  bark's  derelict,  right  enough.  Shake 
him  out  of  there,  son;  can't  you  see,  the 
lad's  dotty  with  the  gas?" 

Cramped  into  the  narrow  space  of  the 
67 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

wheel-box  like  a  terrified  hare  in  a  blind 
burrow  was  the  figure  of  a  young  boy. 
So  firmly  was  he  wedged  into  the  corner 
that  Kitchell  had  to  kick  down  the  box 
before  he  could  be  reached.  The  boy 
spoke  no  word.  Stupefied  with  the  gas, 
he  watched  them  with  vacant  eyes. 

Wilbur  put  a  hand  under  the  lad's  arm 
and  got  him  to  his  feet.  He  was  a  tall, 
well-made  fellow,  with  ruddy  complexion 
and  milk-blue  eyes,  and  was  dressed,  as 
if  for  heavy  weather,  in  oilskins. 

"Well,  sonny,  you've  had  a  fine  mess 
aboard  here,"  said  Kitchell.  The  boy- 
he  might  have  been  two  and  twenty — 
stared  and  frowned. 

"Clean  loco  from  the  gas.  Get  him 
into  the  dory,  son.  I'll  try  this  bloody 
cabin  again." 

Kitchell  turned  back  and  descended 
from  the  poop,  and  Wilbur,  his  arm 
around  the  boy,  followed.  Kitchell  was 
already  out  of  hearing,  and  Wilbur  was 
bracing  himself  upon  the  rolling  deck, 
68 


The  Lady  Letty 

steadying  the  young  fellow  at  his  side, 
when  the  latter  heaved  a  deep  breath. 
His  throat  and  breast  swelled.  Wilbur 
stared  sharply,  with  a  muttered  exclama 
tion: 

"My  God,  it's  a  girl!"  he  said. 


69 


IV 

Moran 

MEANWHILE  Charlie  had  brought  the 
Bertha  Millner  up  to  within  hailing  dis 
tance  of  the  bark,  and  had  hove  her  to. 
Kitchell  ordered  Wilbur  to  return  to  the 
schooner  and  bring  over  a  couple  of  axes. 

"  We'll  have  to  knock  holes  all  through 
the  house,  and  break  in  the  skylights,  and 
let  the  gas  escape  before  we  can  do  any 
thing.  Take  the  kid  over  and  give  him 
whiskey  ;  then  come  along  back  and  bear 
a  hand." 

Wilbur  had  considerable  difficulty  in 
getting  into  the  dory  from  the  deck  of 
the  plunging  derelict  with  his  dazed  and 
almost  helpless  charge.  Even  as  he  slid 
down  the  rope  into  the  little  boat  and 
helped  the  girl  to  follow,  he  was  aware  of 
70 


Moran 

two  dull,  brownish-green  shadows  moving 
just  beneath  the  water's  surface  not  ten 
feet  away,  and  knew  that  he  was  being 
stealthily  watched.  The  Chinamen  at 
the  oars  of  the  dory,  with  that  extraordi 
nary  absence  of  curiosity  which  is  the 
mark  of  the  race,  did  not  glance  a  second 
time  at  the  survivor  of  the  Lady  Letty's 
misadventure.  To  them  it  was  evident 
she  was  but  a  for 'mast  hand.  However, 
Wilbur  examined  her  with  extraordinary 
interest  as  she  sat  in  the  stern  sheets, 
sullen,  half -defiant,  half -bewildered,  and 
bereft  of  speech. 

She  was  not  pretty — she  was  too  tall 
for  that — quite  as  tall  as  Wilbur  himself, 
and  her  skeleton  was  too  massive.  Her 
face  was  red,  and  the  glint  of  blue  ice 
was  in  her  eyes.  Her  eyelashes  and 
eyebfows,  as  well  as  the  almost  imper 
ceptible  down  that  edged  her  cheek  when 
she  turned  against  the  light,  were  blonde 
almost  to  whiteness.  What  beauty  she 
had  was  of  the  fine,  hardy  Norse  type. 
11 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Her  hands  were  red  and  hard,  and  even 
beneath  the  coarse  sleeve  of  the  oilskin 
coat  one  could  infer  that  the  biceps  and 
deltoids  were  large  and  powerful.  She 
was  coarse-fibred,  no  doubt,  mentally  as 
well  as  physically,  but  her  coarseness,  so 
Wilbur  guessed,  would  prove  to  be  the 
coarseness  of  a  primitive  rather  than  of  a 
degenerate  character. 

One  thing  he  saw  clearly  during  the 
few  moments  of  the  dory's  trip  between 
bark  and  schooner — the  fact  that  his 
charge  was  a  woman  must  be  kept  from 
Captain  Kitchell.  Wilbur  knew  his  man 
by  now.  It  could  be  done.  Kitchell 
and  he  would  take  the  Lady  Letty  into 
the  nearest  port  as  soon  as  possible.  The 
deception  would  have  to  be  maintained 
only  for  a  day  or  two. 

He  left  the  girl  on  board  the  schooner 
and  returned  to  the  derelict  with  the 
axes.  He  found  Kitchell  on  the  house, 
just  returned  from  a  hasty  survey  of  the 
prize. 

72 


Moran 

"She's  a  daisy,"  vociferated  the  Cap 
tain,  as  Wilbur  came  aboard.  "  I've  been 
havin'  a  look  'round.  She's  brand-new. 
See  the  date  on  the  capst'n-head  ?  Chris- 
tiania  is  her  hailin'  port — built  there ;  but 
it's  her  papers  I'm  after.  Then  we'll 
know  where  we're  at.  How's  the  kid?" 

"She's  all  right,"  answered  Wilbur,  be 
fore  he  could  collect  his  thoughts.  But 
the  Captain  thought  he  had  reference  to 
the  Bertha. 

"  I  mean  the  kid  we  found  in  the 
wheel-box.  He  doesn't  count  in  our  sal 
vage.  The  bark's  been  abandoned  as 
plain  as  paint.  If  I  thought  he  stood 
in  our  way,"  and  Kitchell's  jaw  grew 
salient,  "  I'd  shut  him  in  the  cabin  with 
the  old  man  a  spell,  till  he'd  copped  off. 
Now  then,  son,  first  thing  to  do  is  to 
chop  vents  in  this  yere  house." 

"Hold    up — we    can    do    better   than 
that,"  said  Wilbur,  restraining  Kitchell's 
fury  of  impatience.     "  Slide  the  big  sky 
light  off — it's  loose  already." 
73 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

A  couple  of  the  schooner's  hands  were 
ordered  aboard  the  Lady  Letty,  and  the 
skylight  removed.  At  first  the  pour  of 
gas  was  terrific,  but  by  degrees  it  abated, 
and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  Kitchell 
could  keep  back  no  longer. 

"Come  on!"  he  cried,  catching  up  an 
axe ;  "  rot  the  difference. "  All  the  plun 
dering  instincts  of  the  man  were  aroused 
and  clamoring.  He  had  become  a  very 
wolf  within  scent  of  its  prey — a  veritable 
hyena  nuzzling  about  its  carrion. 

"Lord!"  he  gasped,  "f  think  that 
everything  we  see,  everything  we  find,  is 
ours !" 

Wilbur  himself  was  not  far  behind  him 
in  eagerness.  Somewhere  deep  down  in 
the  heart  of  every  Anglo-Saxon  lies  the 
predatory  .instinct  of  his  Viking  ancestors 
— an  instinct  that  a  thousand  years  of  re 
spectability  and  tax-paying  have  not  quite 
succeeded  in  eliminating. 

A  flight  of  six  steps,  brass  bound  and 
bearing  the  double  L  of  the  bark's  mono- 
74 


Moran 

gram,  led  them  down  into  a  sort  of  vesti 
bule.  From  the  vestibule  a  door  opened 
directly  into  the  main  cabin.  They  en 
tered. 

The  cabin  was  some  twenty  feet  long 
and  unusually  spacious.  Fresh  from  his 
recollection  of  the  grime  and  reek  of  the 
schooner,  it  struck  Wilbur  as  particular 
ly  dainty.  It  was  painted  white  with 
stripes  of  blue,  gold,  and  pea-green.  On 
either  side  three  doors  opened  off  into 
staterooms  and  private  cabins,  and  with 
each  roll  of  the  derelict  these  doors 
banged  like  an  irregular  discharge  of  re 
volvers.  In  the  centre  was  the  dining- 
table,  covered  with  a  red  cloth,  very  much 
awry.  On  each  side  of  the  table  were 
four  arm-chairs,  screwed  to  the  deck,  one 
'somewhat  larger  at  the  head.  Overhead, 
in  swinging-racks,  were  glasses  and  de 
canters  of  whiskey  and  some  kind  of  white 
wine.  But  for  one  feature  the  sight  of 
the  Letty's  cabin  was  charming.  How 
ever,  on  the  floor  by  the  sliding-door  in 
75 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

the  forward    bulkhead   lay  a    body,  face 
upward. 

The  body  was  that  of  a  middle-aged, 
fine-looking  man,  his  head  covered  with 
the  fur,  ear-lapped  cap  that  Norwegians 
affect,  even  in  the  tropics.  The  eyes 
were  wide  open,  the  face  discolored.  In 
the  last  gasp  of  suffocation  the  set  of  false 
teeth  had  been  forced  half-way  out  of  his 
mouth,  distorting  the  countenance  with  a 
hideous  simian  grin.  Instantly  Kitch- 
ell's  eye  was  caught  by  the  glint  of  the 
gold  in  which  these  teeth  were  set. 

"Here's  about  $100  to  begin  with,"  he 
exclaimed,  and  picking  up  the  teeth, 
dropped  them  into  his  pocket  with  a 
wink  at  Wilbur.  The  body  of  the  dead 
Captain  was  passed  up  through  the  sky 
light  and  laid  out  on  the  deck,  and  Wil 
bur  and  Kitchell  turned  their  attention 
to  what  had  been  his  stateroom. 

The  Captain's  room  was  the  largest  one 
of  the  six  staterooms  opening  from  the 
main  cabin. 

76 


Moran 

"Here  we  are!"  exclaimed  Kitehell  as 
he  and  Wilbur  entered.  "The  old  man's 
room,  and  no  mistake." 

Besides  the  bunk,  the  stateroom  was 
fitted  up  with  a  lounge  of  red  plush 
screwed  to  the  bulkhead.  A  roll  of 
charts  leaned  in  one  corner,  an  alarm 
clock,  stopped  at  1:15,  stood  on  a  shelf 
in  the  company  of  some  dozen  paper- 
covered  novels  and  a  drinking-glass  full 
of  cigars.  Over  the  lounge,  however, 
was  the  rack  of  instruments,  sex 
tant,  barometer,  chronometer,  glass,  and 
the  like,  securely  screwed  down, 
while  against  the  wall,  in  front  of  a 
swivel  leather  chair  that  was  ironed 
to  the  deck,  was  the  locked  secre 
tary. 

"Look  at  'em,  just  look  at  'em,  will 
you!"  said  Kitehell,  running  his  fingers 
lovingly  over  the  polished  brass  of  the 
instruments.  "There's  a  thousand  dol 
lars  of  stuff  right  here.  The  chronom 
eter's  worth  five  hundred  alone,  Bennett 
77 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

&  Sons'  own  make."  He  turned  to  the 
secretary. 

"Now!"  he  exclaimed  with  a  long 
breath. 

What  followed  thrilled  Wilbur  with 
alternate  excitement,  curiosity,  and  a 
vivid  sense  of  desecration  and  sacrilege. 
For  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  make 
the  thing  seem  right  or  legal  in  his  eyes, 
and  yet  he  had  neither  the  wish  nor  the 
power  to  stay  his  hand  or  interfere  with 
what  Kitchell  was  doing. 

The  Captain  put  the  blade  of  the  axe 
in  the  chink  of  the  secretary's  door  and 
wrenched  it  free.  It  opened  down  to 
form  a  sort  of  desk,  and  disclosed  an  array 
of  cubby-holes  and  two  small  doors,  both 
locked.  These  latter  Kitchell  smashed 
in  with  the  axe-head.  Then  he  seated 
himself  in  the  swivel  chair  and  began  to 
rifle  their  contents  systematically,  Wilbur 
leaning  over  his  shoulder. 

The  heat  from  the  coal  below  them  was 
almost  unbearable.  In  the  cabin  the  six 
78 


Moran 

doors  kept  up  a  continuous  ear-shocking 
fusillade,  as  though  half  a  dozen  men  were 
fighting  with  revolvers;  from  without, 
down  the  open  skylight,  came  the  sing 
song  talk  of  the  Chinamen  and  the  wash 
and  ripple  of  the  two  vessels,  now  side 
by  side.  The  air,  foul  beyond  expres 
sion,  tasted  of  brass,  their  heads  swam 
and  ached  to  bursting,  but  absorbed  in 
their  work  they  had  no  thought  of  the 
lapse  of  time  nor  the  discomfort  of  their 
surroundings.  Twice  during  the  exam 
ination  of  the  bark's  papers,  Kitchell  sent 
Wilbur  out  into  the  cabin  for  the  whiskey 
decanter  in  the  swinging-racks. 

"Here's  the  charter  papers,"  said 
Kitchell,  unfolding  and  spreading  them 
out  one  by  one ;  "  and  here's  the  clearing 
papers  from  Blyth  in  England.  This 
yere's  the  insoorance,  and  here,  this  is — 
rot  that,  no  thin'  but  the  articles  for  the 
crew — no  use  to  us." 

In  a  separate  envelope,  carefully  sealed 
and  bound,  they  came  upon  the  Captain's 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

private  papers.  A  marriage  certificate 
setting  forth  the  union  between  Eilert 
Sternersen,  of  Fruholmen,  Norway,  and 
Sarah  Moran,  of  some  seaport  town  (the 
name  was  undecipherable)  of  the  North 
of  England.  Next  came  a  birth  certifi 
cate  of  a  daughter  named  Moran,  dated 
twenty-two  years  back,  and  a  bill  of  sale 
of  the  bark  Lady  Letty,  whereby  a  two- 
thirds  interest  was  conveyed  from  the 
previous  owners  (a  shipbuilding  firm  of 
Chris tiania)  to  Capt.  Eilert  Sternersen. 

"The  old  man  was  his  own  boss,"  com 
mented  Kitchell.  "  Hello !"  he  remarked, 
"look  here";  a  yellowed  photograph  was 
in  his  hand,  the  picture  of  a  stout,  fair- 
haired  woman  of  about  40,  wearing 
enormous  pendant  earrings  in  the  style  of 
the  early  sixties.  Below  was  written : 
"S.  Moran  Sternersen,  ob.  1867." 

"Old  woman  copped  off,"  said  Kitch 
ell,  "  so  much  the  better  for  us ;  no  heirs 
to  put  in  their  gab;    an' — hold  hard — 
steady  all — here's  f.he  will,  s'help  me." 
80 


Moran 

The  only  items  of  importance  in  the 
will  were  the  confirmation  of  the  wife's 
death  and  the  expressly  stated  bequest  of 
"the  bark  known  as,  and  sailing  under, 
the  name  of  the  Lady  Letty  to  my  only 
and  beloved  daughter,  Moran." 

"Well,  "said  Wilbur. 

The  Captain  sucked  his  mustache,  then 
furiously,  striking  the  desk  with  his  fist: 

"The  bark's  ours!"  there  was  a  certain 
ring  of  defiance  in  his  voice.  "  Damn  the 
will !  I  ain't  so  cock-sure  about  the  law, 
but  I'll  make  sure." 

"As  how?"  said  Wilbur. 

Kitchell  slung  the  will  out  of  the  open 
port  into  the  sea. 

"That's  how,"  he  remarked.  "I'm  the 
heir.  I  found  the  bark ;  mine  she  is,  an' 
mine  she  stays — yours  an'  mine,  that  is." 

But  Wilbur  had  not  even  the  time  to 
thoroughly  enjoy  the  satisfaction  that  the 
Captain's  words  conveyed,  before  an  idea 
suddenly  presented  itself  to  him.  The 
girl  he  had  found  on  board  of  the  bark, 
6  81 


UNIVERSITY  1 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

the  ruddy,  fair-haired  girl  of  the  fine  and 
hardy  Norse  type.  That  was  the  daugh 
ter,  of  course;  that  was  "Moran."  In 
stantly  the  situation  adjusted  itself  in 
his  imagination.  The  two  inseparables, 
father  and  daughter,  sailors  both,  their 
lives  passed  together  on  shipboard,  and 
the  Lady  Letty  their  dream,  their  ambi 
tion,  a  vessel  that  at  last  they  could  call 
their  own. 

Then  this  disastrous  voyage — perhaps 
the  first  in  their  new  craft — the  combus 
tion  in  the  coal — the  panic  terror  of  the 
crew  and  their  desertion  of  the  bark,  and 
the  sturdy  resolution  of  the  father  and 
daughter  to  bring  the  Letty  in — to  work 
her  into  port  alone.  They  had  failed; 
the  father  had  died  from  gas ;  the  girl,  at 
least  for  the  moment,  was  crazed  from 
its  effects.  But  the  bark  had  not  been 
abandoned.  The  owner  was  on  board. 
Kitchell  was  wrong ;  she  was  no  derelict ; 
not  one  penny  could  they  gain  by  her 
salvage. 


Moran 

For  an  instant  a  wave  of  bitterest  dis 
appointment  passed  over  Wilbur  as  he 
saw  his  $30,000  dwindling  to  nothing. 
Then  the  instincts  of  habit  reasserted 
themselves.  The  taxpayer  in  him  was 
stronger  than  the  freebooter,  after  all. 
He  felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  see  to  it 
that  the  girl  had  her  rights.  Kitchell 
must  be  made  aware  of  the  situation — 
must  be  told  that  Moran,  the  daughter, 
the  Captain's  heir,  was  on  board  the 
schooner;  that  the  "kid"  found  in  the 
wheel-box  was  a  girl.  But  on  second 
thoughts  that  would  never  do.  Above 
all  things,  the  brute  Kitchell  must  not 
be  shown  that  a  girl  was  aboard  the 
schooner  on  which  he  had  absolute 
command,  nor,  setting  the  question  of 
Moran's  sex  aside,  must  Kitchell  know 
her  even  as  the  dead  Captain's  heir. 
There  was  a  difference  in  the  men  here, 
and  Wilbur  appreciated  it.  Kitchell,  the 
law-abiding  taxpayer,  was  a  weakling 
in  comparison  with  Kitchell,  the  free- 
83 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

booter  and  beach- comber  in  sight  of  his 
prize. 

"Son,"  said  the  Captain,  making  a 
bundle  of  all  the  papers,  "  take  these  over 
to  my  bunk  and  hide  'em  under  the  don 
key's  breakfast.  Stop  a  bit,"  he  added, 
as  Wilbur  started  away.  "I'll  go  with 
you.  We'll  have  to  bury  the  old  man." 

Throughout  all  the  afternoon  the  Cap 
tain  had  been  drinking  the  whiskey  from 
the  decanter  found  in  the  cabin ;  now  he 
stood  up  unsteadily,  and,  raising  his  glass, 
exclaimed : 

"  Sonny,  here's  to  Kitchell,  Wilbur  & 
Co.,  beach-combers,  un-limited.  What 
do  you  say,  hey?" 

"I  only  want  to  be  sure  that  we've  a 
right  to  the  bark,"  answered  Wilbur. 

"Eight  to  her — ri-hight  to  'er,"  hic 
coughed  the  Captain.  "  Strike  me  blind, 
I'd  like  to  see  any  one  try'n  take  her  away 
from  Alvinza  Kitchell  now,"  and  he 
thrust  out  his  chin  at  Wilbur. 

"Well,  so  much  the  better,  then,"  said 
84 


Moran 

Wilbur,  pocketing  the  papers.     The  pair 
ascended  to  the  deck. 

The  burial  of  Captain  Sternersen  was  a 
dreadful  business.  Kitchell,  far  gone  in 
whiskey,  stood  on  the  house  issuing  his 
orders,  drinking  from  one  of  the  decanters 
he  had  brought  up  with  him.  He  had 
already  rifled  the  dead  man's  pockets, 
and  had  even  taken  away  the  boots  and 
fur-lined  cap.  Cloths  were  cut  from  the 
spanker  and  rolled  around  the  body. 
Then  Kitchell  ordered  the  peak  halyards 
unrove  and  used  as  lashings  to  tie  the 
canvas  around  the  corpse.  The  red  and 
white  flags  (the  distress  signals)  were  still 
bound  on  the  halyards. 

"Leave  'em  on.  Leave  'em  on,"  com 
manded  Kitchell.  "Use  'm  as  a  shrou'. 
All  ready  now,  stan'  by  to  let  her  go." 

Wilbur  looked  over  at  the  schooner  and 
noted  with  immense  relief  that  Moran 
was  not  in  sight.  Suddenly  an  abrupt 
reaction  took  place  in  the  Captain's 
addled  brain. 

85 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"Can't  bury  'urn  'ithout  'is  teeth,"  he 
gabbled  solemnly.  He  laid  back  the 
canvas  and  replaced  the  set.  "  Ole  man'd 
ha'nt  me  'f  I  kep'  's  teeth.  Strike !  look 
a'  that,  I  put  'em  in  upside  down.  Nev' 
min',  upsi'  down,  downsi'  up,  whaz  odds, 
all  same  with  ole  Bill,  hey,  ole  Bill,  all 
same  with  you,  hey?"  Suddenly  he  be 
gan  to  howl  with  laughter.  "  T'  think  a 
bein'  buried  with  yo'r  teeth  upsi'  down. 
Oh,  mee,  but  that's  a  good  grind.  Stan' 
by  to  heave  ole  Uncle  Bill  over — ready, 
heave,  an'  away  she  goes."  He  ran  to 
the  side,  waving  his  hat  and  looking  over. 
"Goo'-by,  ole  Bill,  by-by.  There  you 
go,  an'  the  signal  o'  distress  roun'  you, 
H.  B.  'I'm  in  need  of  assistance.' 
Lord,  here  conies  the  sharks — look !  look ! 
look  at  um  fight !  look  at  um  takin'  ole 
Bill !  I'm  in  need  of  assistance.  I  sh'd 
say  you  were,  ole  Bill." 

Wilbur  looked  once  over  the  side  in 
the  churning,  lashing  water,  then  drew 
back,  sick  to  vomiting.  But  in  less  than 
86 


Moran 

thirty  seconds  the  water  was  quiet.  Not 
a  shark  was  in  sight. 

"Get  over  t'  the  Bertha  with  those 
papers,  son,"  ordered  Kitchell;  "I'll  bide 
here  and  dig  up  sh'  mor  loot.  I'll  gut 
this  ole  pill-box  from  stern  to  stem-post 
'fore  I'll  leave.  I  won't  leave  a  copper 
rivet  in  'er,  notta  co'er  rivet,  dyhear?" 
he  shouted,  his  face  purple  with  unneces 
sary  rage. 

Wilbur  returned  to  the  schooner  with 
the  two  Chinamen,  leaving  Kitchell  alone 
on  the  bark.  He  found  the  girl  sitting 
by  the  rudderhead  almost  as  he  had  left 
her,  looking  about  her  with  vague,  unsee 
ing  eyes. 

"Your  name  is  Moran,  isn't  it?"  he 
asked.  "Moran  Sternersen." 

"*Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  then 
looked  curiously  at  a  bit  of  tarred  rope 
on  the  deck.  Nothing  more  could  be 
got  out  of  her.  Wilbur  talked  to  her  at 
length,  and  tried  to  make  tier  understand 
the  situation,  but  it  was  evident  she  did 
87 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

not  follow.  However,  at  each  mention 
of  her  name  she  would  answer : 

"Yes,  yes,  I'm  Moran." 

Wilbur  turned  away  from  her,  biting 
his  nether  lip  in  perplexity. 

"Now,  what  am  I  going  to  do?"  he 
muttered.  "  What  a  situation !  If  I  tell 
the  Captain,  it's  all  up  with  the  girl.  If 
he  didn't  kill  her,  he'd  do  worse — might 
do  both.  If  I  don't  tell  him,  there  goes 
her  birthright,  $60,000,  and  she  alone  in 
the  world.  It's  begun  to  go  already,"  he 
added,  listening  to  the  sounds  that  came 
from  the  bark.  Kitchell  was  raging  to 
and  fro  in  the  cabin  in  a  frenzy  of  drink, 
axe  in  hand,  smashing  glassware,  hacking 
into  the  woodwork,  singing  the  while  at 
the  top  of  his  voice: 

"  As  through  the  drop  I  go,  drop  I  go, 
As  through  the  drop  I  go,  drop  I  go, 
As  through  the  drop  I  go, 
Down  to  hell  that  yawns  below, 
Twenty  stiffs  all  in  a  row, 

Damn  your  eyes." 

» 

"  That's  the  kind  of  man  I  have  to  deal 

88 


Moran 

with,"  muttered  Wilbur.  "It's  encour 
aging,  and  there's  no  one  to  talk  to.  Not 
much  help  in  a  Chinaman  and  a  crazy 
girl  in  a  man's  oilskins.  It's  about  the 
biggest  situation  you  ever  faced,  Ross 
Wilbur,  and  you're  all  alone.  What  the 
devil  are  you  going  to  do?" 

He  acknowledged  with  considerable 
humiliation  that  he  could  not  get  the 
better  of  Kitchell,  either  physically  or 
mentally.  Kitchell  was  a  more  powerful 
man  than  he,  and  cleverer.  The  Captain 
was  in  his  element  now,  and  he  was  the 
commander.  On  shore  it  would  have 
been  vastly  different.  The  city-bred  fel 
low,  with  a  policeman  always  in  call, 
would  have  known  how  to  act. 

"  I  simply  can't  stand  by  and  see  that 
hog  plundering  everything  she's  got. 
What's  to  be  done?" 

And  suddenly,  while  the  words  were 

yet  in  his  mouth,  the  sun  was  wiped  from 

the  sky  like  writing   from  a   slate,  the 

horizon  blackened,  vanished,  a  long  white 

89 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

line  of  froth  whipped  across  the  sea  and 
came  on  hissing.  A  hollow  note  boomed 
out,  boomed,  swelled,  and  grew  rapidly  to 
a  roar. 

An  icy  chill  stabbed  the  air.  Then  the 
squall  swooped  and  struck,  and  the  sky 
shut  down  over  the  troubled  ocean  like  a 
pot-lid  over  a  boiling  pot.  The  schooner's 
fore  and  main  sheets,  that  had  not  been 
made  fast,  unrove  at  the  first  gust  and 
began  to  slat  wildly  in  the  wind.  The 
Chinamen  cowered  to  the  decks,  grasp 
ing  at  cleats,  stays,  and  masts.  They 
were  helpless  —  paralyzed  with  fear. 
Charlie  clung  to  a  stay,  one  arm  over  his 
head,  as  though  dodging  a  blow.  Wilbur 
gripped  the  rail  with  his  hands  wh^re  he 
stood,  his  teeth  set,  his  eyes  wide,  wait 
ing  for  the  foundering  of  the  schooner, 
his  only  thought  being  that  the  end  could 
not  be  far.  He  had  heard  of  the  sudden 
ness  of  tropical  squalls,  but  this  had  come 
with  the  abruptness  of  a  scene-shift  at  a 
play.  The  schooner  veered  broad-on  to 
90 


Moran 

the  waves.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the 
end — another  roll  to  the  leeward  like  the 
last  and  the  Pacific  would  come  aboard. 

"And  you  call  ourselves  sailor  men! 
Are  you  going  to  drown  like  rats  on  a 
plank?"  A  voice  that  Wilbur  did  not 
know  went  ringing  through  that  horrid 
shouting  of  wind  'and  sea  like  the  call  of 
a  bugle.  He  turned  to  see  Moran,  the 
girl  of  the  Lady  Letty,  standing  erect 
upon  the  quarterdeck,  holding  down  the 
schooner's  wheel.  The  confusion  of  that 
dreadful  moment,  that  had  paralyzed  the 
crew's  senses,  had  brought  back  hers. 
She  was  herself  again,  savage,  splendid,' 
dominant,  superb  in  her  wrath  at  their 
weakness,  their  cowardice. 

Her  heavy  brows  were  knotted  over 
her  flaming  eyes,  her  hat  was  gone,  and 
her  thick  bands  of  yellow  hair  whipped 
across  her  face  and  streamed  out  in  the 
wind  like  streamers  of  the  northern  lights. 
As  she  shouted,  gesturing  furiously  to  the 
men,  the  loose  skin  of  the  oilskin  coat 
91 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

fell  back,  and  showed  her  forearm,  strong, 
round,  and  white  as  scud,  the  hand  and 
wrist  so  tanned  as  to  look  almost  like  a 
glove.  And  all  the  while  she  shouted 
aloud,  furious  with  indignation,  raging 
against  the  supineness  of  the  Bertha's 
crew. 

"Stand  by,  men!  stand  by!  Look 
alive,  now!  Make  fast  the  stays'l  hal 
yards  to  the  dory's  warp!  Now,  then, 
unreeve  y'r  halyards !  all  clear  there !  pass 
the  end  for'd  outside  the  rigging!  out 
side  !  you  fools !  Make  fast  to  the  bits 
for'ard — let  go  y'r  line — that'll  do.  Soh 
— soh.  There,  she's  coming  up." 

The  dory  had  been  towing  astern,  and 
the  seas  combing  over  her  had  swamped 
her.  Moran  had  been  inspired  to  use  the 
swamped  boat  as  a  sea-anchor,  fastening 
her  to  the  schooner's  bow  instead  of  to 
the  stern.  The  Bertha's  bow,  answering 
to  the  drag,  veered  around.  The  Bertha 
stood  head  to  the  seas,  riding  out  the 
squall.  It  was  a  masterpiece  of  seaman- 
92 


Moran 

ship,  conceived  and  executed  in  the  very 
thick  of  peril,  and  it  saved  the  schooner. 

But  there  was  little  time  to  think  of 
themselves.  On  board  the  bark  the  sails 
were  still  set.  The  squall  struck  the 
Lady  Letty  squarely  aback.  She  heeled 
over  upon  the  instant;  then  as  the  top 
hamper  carried  away  with  a  crash,  eased 
back  a  moment  upon  an  even  keel.  But 
her  cargo  had  shifted.  The  bark  was 
doomed.  Through  the  flying  spray  and 
scud  and  rain  Wilbur  had  a  momentary 
glimpse  of  Kitchell,  hacking  at  the  lan 
yards  with  his  axe.  Then  the  Lady 
Lctty  capsized,  going  over  till  her  masts 
were  flat  with  the  water,  and  in  another 
second  rolled  bottom  up.  For  a  moment 
her  keel  and  red  iron  bottom  were  visible 
through  the  mist  of  driving  spoon-drift. 
Suddenly  they  sank  from  sight.  She  was 
gone. 

And  then,  like  the  rolling  up  of  a 
scroll,  the  squall  passed,  the  sun  returned, 
the  sky  burned  back  to  blue,  the  rugged- 
93 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

ness  was  smoothed  from  the  ocean,  and 
the  warmth  of  the  tropics  closed  around 
the  Bertha  Millner,  once  more  rolling 
easily  on  the  swell  of  the  ocean. 

Of  the  Lady  Letty  and  the  drunken 
beach- combing  Captain  not  a  trace  re 
mained.  Kitchell  had  gone  down  with 
his  prize.  The  Bertha  Millner  s  Chinese 
crew  huddled  forward,  talking  wildly, 
pointing  and  looking  in  a  bewildered 
fashion  over  the  sides. 

Wilbur  and  Moran  were  left  alone  on 
the  open  Pacific. 


94 


A  Girl   Captain 

WHEN  Wilbur  came  on  deck  the  morn 
ing  after  the  sinking  of  the  bark  he  was 
surprised  to  find  the  schooner  under  way 
again.  Wilbur  and  Charlie  had  berthed 
forward  during  that  night — Charlie  with 
the  hands,  Wilbur  in  the  Captain's  ham 
mock.  The  reason  for  this  change  of 
quarters  had  been  found  in  a  peremptory 
order  from  Moran  during  the  dog-watch 
the  preceding  evening. 

She  had  looked  squarely  at  Wilbur 
from  under  her  scowl,  and  had  said  briefly 
and  in  a  fine  contralto  voice,  that  he  had 
for  the  first  time  noted :  "  I  berth  aft,  in 
the  cabin;  you  and  the  Chinaman  for 
ward  .  Understand  ? " 

Moran  had  only  forestalled  Wilbur's 
intention ;  while  after  her  almost  miracu- 
95 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

lous  piece  of  seamanship  in  the  rescue  of 
the  schooner,  Charlie  and  the  Chinese 
crew  accorded  her  a  respect  that  was 
almost  superstitious. 

Wilbur  met  her  again  at  breakfast. 
She  was  still  wearing  men's  clothing — 
part  of  Kitchell's  outfit — and  was  booted 
to  the  knee ;  but  now  she  wore  no  hat, 
and  her  enormous  mane  of  rye- colored 
hair  was  braided  into  long  strands  near 
to  the  thickness  of  a  man's  arm.  The 
redness  of  her  face  gave  a  startling  effect 
to  her  pale  blue  eyes  and  sandy,  heavy 
eyebrows,  that  easily  lowered  to  a  frown. 
She  ate  with  her  knife,  and  after  pushing 
away  her  plate  Wilbur  observed  that  she 
drank  half  a  tumbler  of  whiskey  and 
water. 

The  conversation  between  the  two  was 
tame  enough.  There  was  no  common 
ground  upon  which  they  could  meet.  To 
her  father's  death — no  doubt  an  old  mat 
ter  even  before  her  rescue — she  made  no 
allusion.  Her  attitude  toward  Wilbur 
96 


A  Girl   Captain 

was  one  of  defiance  and  suspicion.  Only 
once  did  she  relax: 

"  How  did  you  come  to  be  aboard  here 
with  these  rat-eaters — you're  no  sailor?" 
she  said  abruptly. 

"Huh!"  laughed  Wilbur,  mirthlessly; 
"huh!  I  was  shanghaied." 

Moran  smote  the  table  with  a  red  fist, 
and  shouted  with  sonorous,  bell -toned 
laughter : 

"Shanghaied? — you?  Now,  that  is 
really  good.  And  what  are  you  going 
to  do  now?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"  Signal  the  first  home-bound  vessel 
and  be  taken  into  Frisco.  I've  my  in 
surance  to  collect  (Wilbur  had  given  her 
the  Letty's  papers)  and  the  disaster  to 
report. " 

"Well,  I'm  not  keen  on  shark-hunting 
myself,"  said  Wilbur.  But  Moran  showed 
no  interest  in  his  plans. 

However,  they  soon  found  that  they 
were  not  to  be  permitted  to  signal.  At 
97 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

noon  the  same  day  the  schooner  sighted 
a  steamship's  smoke  on  the  horizon,  and 
began  to  raise  her  rapidly.  Moran  im 
mediately  bound  on  the  ensign,  union 
down,  and  broke  it  out  at  the  peak. 

Charlie,  who  was  at  the  wheel,  spoke 
a  sentence  in  Chinese,  and  one  of  the 
hands  drew  his  knife  across  the  halyards 
and  brought  the  distress  signal  to  the 
deck.  Moran  turned  upon  Charlie  with 
an  oath,  her  brows  knotted. 

"No!  No!"  sang  Charlie,  closing  his 
eyes  and  wagging  his  head;  "No!  Too 
muchee  los'  time;  no  can  stop.  You 
come  down-side  cabin ;  you  an'  one-piece 
boss  number  two  (this  was  Wilbur)  have 
um  chin-chin." 

The  odd  conclave  assembled  about 
Kitchell's  table — the  clubman,  the  half- 
masculine  girl  in  men's  clothes,  and  the 
Chinaman.  The  conference  was  an  an 
gry  one,  Wilbur  and  Moran  insisting  that 
they  be  put  aboard  the  steamship,  Charlie 
refusing  with  calm  obstinacy. 
98 


A  Girl  Captain 

"  I  have  um  chin-chin  with  China  boys 
las'  nigh'.  China  boy  heap  flaid,  no  can 
stop  um  steamship.  Heap  flaid  too  much 
talkee-talkee.  No  stop;  go  fish  now;  go 
fish  chop-chop.  Los'  heap  time;  go  fish. 
I  no  savvy  sail  um  boat,  China  boy  no 
savvy  sail  um  boat.  I  tink  um  you 
savvy  (and  he  pointed  to  Moran).  I 
tink  um  you  savvy  plenty  heap  much 
disa  bay.  Boss  number  two,  no  savvy 
sail  um  boat,  but  him  savvy  plenty  many 
all  same." 

"And  we're  to  stop  on  board  your 
dough-dish  and  navigate  her  for  you?" 
shouted  Moran,  her  face  blazing. 

Charlie  nodded  blandly:  "I  tink  um 
yass." 

"And  when  we  get  back  to  port,"  ex 
claimed  Wilbur,  "you  think,  perhaps, 
I — we  won't  make  it  interesting  for 
you?" 

Charlie  smiled. 

"I  tink  um  Six  Company  heap  rich." 

"Well,  get  along,"  ordered  Moran,  as 
99 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

though  the  schooner  was  her  property, 
"and  we'll  talk  it  over." 

"China  boy  lika  you  heap  pretty  big," 
said  Charlie  to  Moran,  as  he  went  out. 
"  You  savvy  sail  um  boat  all  light ;  wanta 
you  fo'  captain.  But,"  he  added,  sud 
denly  dropping  his  bland  passivity  as 
though  it  were  a  mask,  and  for  an  instant 
allowing  the  wicked  malevolent  Canton 
ese  to  come  to  the  surface,  "China  boy 
no  likee  funnee  business,  savvy?"  Then 
with  the  smile  of  a  Talleyrand  he  disap 
peared. 

Moran  and  Wilbur  were  helpless  for 
the  present.  They  were  but  two  against 
seven  Chinamen.  They  must  stay  on 
board,  if  the  coolies  wished  it;  and  if 
they  were  to  stay  it  was  a  matter  of  their 
own  personal  safety  that  the  Bertha  Mill- 
ner  should  be  properly  navigated. 

"I'll   captain  her,"  concluded  Moran, 

sullenly,  at  the  end  of  their  talk.     "  You 

must   act    as    mate,   Mr.   Wilbur.     And 

don't  get  any  mistaken  idea  into  your 

100 


A  Girl  Captain 

head  that,  because  I'm  a  young  girl  and 
alone,  you  are  going  to  run  things  your 
way.  I  don't  like  funny  business  any 
better  than  Charlie." 

"Look  here,"  said  Wilbur,  complain 
ing,  "don't  think  I'm  altogether  a  villain. 
I  think  you're  a  ripping  fine  girl.  You're 
different  from  any  kind  of  girl  I  ever 
met,  of  course,  but  you,  by  jingo,  you're 
—you're  splendid.  There  in  the  squall 
last  evening,  when  you  stood  at  the 
wheel,  with  your  hair — 

"Oh,  drop  that!"  said  the  girl,  con 
temptuously,  and  went  up  on  deck.  Wil 
bur  followed,  scratching  an  ear. 

Charlie  was  called  aft  and  their  deci 
sion  announced.  Moran  would  navigate 
the  Bertha  Millner,  Wilbur  and  she  tak 
ing  the  watches.  Charlie  promised  that 
he  would  answer  for  the  obedience  of  the 
men. 

Their  first  concern  now  was  to  shape 
their  course  for  Magdalena  Bay.  Moran 
and  Wilbur  looked  over  Kitchell's  charts 
101 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

and    log-book,  but  the  girl   flung  them 
aside  disdainfully. 

"  He's  been  sailing  by  the  dead  reckon 
ing,  and  his  navigation  is  drivel.  Why, 
a  cabin-boy  would  know  better;  and,  to 
end  with,  the  chronometer  is  run  down. 
I'll  have  to  get  Green' ich  time  by  taking 
the  altitude  of  a  star  to-night,  and  figure 
out  our  longitude.  Did  you  bring  off 
our  sextant?" 

Wilbur  shook  his  head.  "Only  the 
papers,"  he  said. 

"There's  only  an  old  ebony  quadrant 
here,"  said  Moran,  "but  it  will  have  to 
do." 

That  night,  lying  flat  on  her  back  on 
the  deck  with  the  quadrant  to  her  eye, 
she  "got  a  star  and  brought  it  down  to 
the  horizon,"  and  sat  up  under  the  reek 
ing  lamp  in  the  cabin  nearly  the  whole 
night  ciphering  and  ciphering  till  she  had 
filled  up  the  four  sides  of  the  log-slate 
with  her  calculations.  However,  by  day 
light  she  had  obtained  the  correct  Green- 
102 


A  Girl  Captain 

wich   time   and   worked    the  schooner's 
longitude. 

Two  days  passed,  then  a  third.  Moran 
set  the  schooner's  course.  She  kept  al 
most  entirely  to  herself,  and  when  not  at 
the  wheel  or  taking  the  sun  or  writing 
up  the  log,  gloomed  over  the  after-rail 
into  the  schooner's  wake.  Wilbur  knew 
not  what  to  think  of  her.  Never  in  his 
life  had  he  met  with  any  girl  like  this. 
So  accustomed  had  she  been  to  the  rough, 
give-and-take,  direct  associations  of  a  sea- 
fearing  life  that  she  misinterpreted  well- 
meant  politeness — the  only  respect  he 
knew  how  to  pay  her — to  mean  insidious 
advances.  She  was  suspicious  of  him — 
distrusted  him  utterly,  and  openly  ridi 
culed  his  abortive  seamanship.  Pretty 
she  was  not,  but  she  soon  began  to  have 
a  certain  amount  of  attraction  for  Wilbur. 
He  liked  her  splendid  ropes  of  hair,  her 
heavy  contralto  voice,  her  fine  animal 
strength  of  bone  and  muscle  (admittedly 
greater  than  his  own);  he  admired  her 
103 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

indomitable  courage  and  self-reliance, 
while  her  positive  genius  in  the  matters 
of  seamanship  and  navigation  filled  him 
with  speechless  wonder.  The  girls  he  had 
been  used  to  were  clever  only  in  their 
knowledge  of  the  amenities  of  an  after 
noon  call  or  the  formalities  of  a  paper  ger- 
man.  A  girl  of  two-and-twenty  who  could 
calculate  longitude  from  the  altitude  of 
a  star  was  outside  his  experience.  The 
more  he  saw  of  her  the  more  he  knew 
himself  to  have  been  right  in  his  first 
estimate.  She  drank  whiskey  after  her 
meals,  and  when  angry,  which  was  often, 
swore  like  a  buccaneer.  As  yet  she  was 
almost,  as  one  might  say,  without  sex — 
savage,  unconquered,  untamed,  glorying 
in  her  own  independence,  her  sullen  iso 
lation.  Her  neck  was  thick,  strong,  and 
very  white,  her  hands  roughened  and  cal 
loused.  In  her  men's  clothes  she  looked 
tall,  vigorous,  and  unrestrained,  and  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  as  Wilbur  passed 
close  to  her,  he  was  made  aware  that  her 
104 


A  Girl   Captain 

hair,  her  neck,  her  entire  personality  ex 
haled  a  fine,  sweet,  natural  redolence  that 
savored  of  the  ocean  and  great  winds. 

One  day,  as  he  saw  her  handling  a  huge 
water-barrel  by  the  chines  only,  with  a 
strength  he  knew  to  be  greater  than  his 
own,  her  brows  contracted  with  the  effort, 
her  hair  curling  about  her  thick  neck,  her 
large,  round  arms  bare  to  the  elbow,  a  sud 
den  thrill  of  enthusiasm  smote  through 
him,  and  between  his  teeth  he  exclaimed 
to  himself : 

"By  Jove,  you're  a  woman!" 
The  Bertha  Millner  continued  to  the 
southward,  gliding  quietly  over  the  oil- 
smoothness  of  the  ocean  under  airs  so 
light  as  hardly  to  ruffle  the  surface. 
Sometimes  at  high  noon  the  shimmer  of 
the  ocean  floor  blended  into  the  shimmer 
of  the  sky  at  the  horizon,  and  then  it  was 
no  longer  water  and  blue  heavens;  the 
little  craft  seemed  to  be  poised  in  a  vast 
crystalline  sphere,  where  there  was  nei 
ther  height  nor  depth — poised  motionless 
105 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

in  warm,  coruscating,  opalescent  space, 
alone  with  the  sun. 

At  length  one  morning  the  schooner, 
which  for  the  preceding  twenty-four  hours 
had  been  heading  eastward,  raised  the 
land,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon 
had  come  up  to  within  a  mile  of  a  low, 
sandy  shore,  quivering  with  heat,  and  had 
tied  up  to  the  kelp  in  Magdalena  Bay. 

Charlie  now  took  over  entire  charge  of 
operations.  For  two  days  previous  the 
Chinese  hands  had  been  getting  out  the 
deck-tubs,  tackles,  gaffs,  spades,  and  the 
other  shark-fishing  gear  that  had  been 
stowed  forward.  The  sails  were  lowered 
and  gasketted,  the  decks  cleared  of  all 
impedimenta,  hogsheads  and  huge  vats 
stood  ready  in  the  waist,  and  the  lazy  in 
dolence  of  the  previous  week  was  replaced 
by  an  extraordinary  activity. 

The  day  after  their  arrival  in  the  bay 

was  occupied  by  all  hands  in  catching 

bait.     This  bait  was  a  kind  of  rock-fish, 

of  a  beautiful  red  gold  color,  and  about 

106 


A  Girl   Captain 

the  size  of  an  ordinary  cod.  They  bit 
readily  enough,  but  out  of  every  ten 
hooked  three  were  taken  off  the  lines  by 
the  sharks  before  they  could  be  brought 
aboard.  Another  difficulty  lay  in  the 
fact  that,  either  because  of  the  excessive 
heat  in  the  air  or  the  percentage  of  alkali 
in  the  water,  they  spoiled  almost  immedi 
ately  if  left  in  the  air. 

Turtle  were  everywhere — floating  gray- 
green  discs  just  under  the  surface.  Sea- 
birds  in  clouds  clamored  all  day  long 
about  the  shore  and  sand-spits.  At  long 
intervals  flying-fish  skittered  over  the 
water  like  skippiug-stones.  Shoals  of 
porpoises  came  in  from  outside,  leaping 
clumsily  along  the  edges  of  the  kelp. 
Bewildered  land-birds  perched  on  the 
schooner's  rigging,  and  in  the  early  morn 
ings  the  whistling  of  quail  could  be  heard 
on  shore  near  where  a  little  fresh-water 
stream  ran  down  to  meet  the  ocean. 

It  was  Wilbur  who  caught  the  first 
shark  on  the  second  morning  of  the  Ber- 
107 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

ilia's  advent  in  Magdalena  Bay.  A  store 
of  bait  had  been  accumulated,  split  and 
halved  into  chunks  for  the  shark-hooks, 
and  Wilbur,  baiting  one  of  the  huge  lines 
that  had  been  brought  up  on  deck  the 
evening  before,  flung  it  overboard,  and 
watched  the  glimmer  of  the  white  fish- 
meat  turning  to  a  silvery  green  as  it  sank 
down  among  the  kelp.  Almost  instantly 
a  long  moving  shadow,  just  darker  than 
the  blue-green  mass  of  the  water,  identi 
fied  itself  at  a  little  distance. 

Enormous  flukes  proceeded  from  either 
side,  an  erect  dorsal  fin,  like  an  enormous 
cock's  crest,  rose  from  the  back,  while  im 
mediately  over  the  head  swam  the  two 
pilot-fish,  following  so  closely  the  move 
ment  of  the  shark  as  to  give  the  impression 
of  actually  adhering  to  his  body.  Twice 
and  three  times  the  great  man-eater,  twelve 
feet  from  snout  to  tail-tip,  circled  slowly 
about  the  bait,  the  flukes  moving  fan-like 
through  the  water.  Once  he  came  up, 
touched  the  bait  with  his  nose,  and  backed 
108 


A  Girl  Captain 

easily  away.  He  disappeared,  returned; 
and  poised  himself  motionless  in  the 
schooner's  shadow,  feeling  the  water  with 
his  flukes. 

Moran  was  looking  over  Wilbur's  shoul 
der.  "He's  as  good  as  caught,"  she  mut 
tered  ;  "  once  let  them  get  sight  of  meat, 
and—  Steady  now!"  The  shark 

moved  forward.  Suddenly,  with  a  long, 
easy  roll,  he  turned  completely  upon  his 
back.  His  white  belly  flashed  like  silver 
in  the  water — the  bait  disappeared. 

"  You've  got  him !"  shouted  Moran. 

The  rope  slid  through  Wilbur's  palms, 
burning  the  skin  as  the  huge  sea-wolf 
sounded.  Moran  laid  hold.  The  heavy, 
sullen  wrenching  from  below  twitched 
and  swayed  their  bodies  and  threw  them 
against  each  other.  Her  bare,  cool  arm 
was  pressed  close  over  his  knuckles. 

"Heave!"  she  cried,  laughing  with  the 

excitement  of  the  moment.     "  Heave  all !" 

— she  began  the  chant  of  sailors  hauling  at 

the  ropes.     Together,  and  bracing  their 

109 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

feet  against  the  schooner's  rail,  they  fought 
out  the  fight  with  the  great  tish.  In  a 
swirl  of  lather  the  head  and  shoulders 
came  above  the  surface,  the  flukes  churn 
ing  the  water  till  it  boiled  like  the  wake 
of  a  screw  steamship.  But  as  soon  as 
these  great  fins  were  clear  of  the  surface 
the  shark  fell  quiet  and  helpless. 

Charlie  came  up  with  the  cutting-in 
spade,  and  as  the  fish  hung  still  over  the 
side,  cut  him  open  from  neck  to  belly 
with  a  single  movement.  Another  China 
man  stood  by  with  a  long-handled  gaff, 
hooked  out  the  purple-black  liver,  brought 
it  over  the  side,  and  dropped  it  into  one 
of  the  deck-tubs.  The  shark  thrashed  and 
writhed,  his  flukes  quivering  and  his  gills 
distended.  Wilbur  could  not  restrain  an 
exclamation. 

"  Brutal  business !"  he  muttered. 

"Hoh!"  exclaimed  Moran,  scornfully, 
"  cutting-in  is  too  good  for  him.  Sailor- 
folk  are  no  friends  of  such  carrion  as  that. " 

Other  lines  were  baited  and  dropped 
110 


A  Girl  Captain 

overboard,  and  the  hands  settled  them 
selves  to  the  real  business  of  the  expedi 
tion.  There  was  no  skill  in  the  matter. 
The  sharks  bit  ravenously,  and  soon 
swarmed  about  the  schooner  in  hundreds. 
Hardly  a  half  minute  passed  that  one  of 
the  four  Chinamen  that  were  fishing  did 
not  signal  a  catch,  and  Charlie  and  Jim 
were  kept  busy  with  spade  and  gaff.  By 
noon  the  deck-tubs  were  full.  The  lines 
were  hauled  in,  and  the  hands  set  the  tubs 
in  the  sun  to  try  out  the  oil.  Under  the 
tropical  heat  the  shark  livers  almost  vis 
ibly  melted  away,  and  by  4  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  the  tubs  were  full  of  a  thick, 
yellow  oil,  the  reek  of  which  instantly 
recalled  to  Wilbur's  mind  the  rancid  smell 
of  the  schooner  on  the  day  when  he  had 
first  come  aboard  of  her.  The  deck-tubs 
were  emptied  into  the  hogsheads  and  vats 
that  stood  in  the  waist  of  the  Bertha,  the 
tubs  scoured,  and  the  lines  and  bent  shark- 
hooks  overhauled.  Charlie  disappeared  in 
the  galley,  supper  was  cooked,  and  eaten 
111 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

upon  deck  under  the  conflagration  of  the 
sunset ;  the  lights  were  set,  the  Chinamen 
foregathered  in  the  fo'c'stle  head,  smoking 
opium,  and  by  eight  o'clock  the  routine 
of  the  day  was  at  an  end. 

So  the  time  passed.  In  a  short  time 
Wilbur  could  not  have  said  whether  the 
day  was  Wednesday  or  Sunday.  He 
soon  tired  of  the  unsportsmanlike  work 
of  killing  the  sluggish  brutes,  and  turned 
shoreward  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the 
succeeding  days.  He  and  Moran  were  left 
a  good  deal  to  their  own  devices.  Charlie 
was  the  master  of  the  men  now.  "  Mate," 
said  Moran  to  Wilbur  one  day,  after  a 
dinner  of  turtle  steaks  and  fish,  eaten  in 
the  open  air  on  the  quarter-deck;  "mate, 
this  is  slow  work,  and  the  schooner 
smells  terribly  foul.  We'll  have  the  dory 
out  and  go  ashore.  We  can  tumble  a 
cask  into  her  and  get  some  water.  The 
butt's  three-quarters  empty.  Let's  see 
how  it  feels  to  be  in  Mexico." 

"Mexico?"  said  Wilbur.  "That's  so 
112 


A    Girl   Captain 

— Lower  California  is  Mexico.  I'd  for 
gotten  that!" 

They  went  ashore  and  spent  the  after 
noon  in  filling  the  water- cask  from  the 
fresh-water  stream  and  in  gathering  aba- 
lones,  which  Moran  declared  were  deli 
cious  eating,  from  the  rocks  left  bare  by 
the  tide.  But  nothing  could  have  ex 
ceeded  the  loneliness  of  that  shore  and 
backland,  palpitating  under  the  flogging 
of  a  tropical  sun.  Low  hills  of  sand, 
covered  with  brush,  stretched  back  from 
the  shore.  On  the  eastern  horizon, 
leagues  distant,  blue  masses  of  moun 
tains,  striated  with  mirages,  swam  in  the 
scorching  air. 

The  sand  was  like  fire  to  the  touch. 
Far  out  in  the  bay  the  schooner  hung 
motionless  under  bare  sticks,  resting  ap 
parently  upon  her  inverted  shadow  only. 
And  that  was  all — the  flat,  heat-ridden 
land,  the  sheen  of  the  open  Pacific,  and 
the  lonely  schooner. 

"Quiet  enough,"  said  Wilbur,  in  a  low 
8  113 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

voice,  wondering  if  there  was  such  a 
place  as  San  Francisco,  with  its  paved 
streets  and  cable  cars,  and  if  people  who 
had  been  his  friends  there  had  ever  had 
any  real  existence. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?"  asked  Moran  quickly, 
facing  him,  her  thumbs  in  her  belt. 

"It's  good  fun, — how  about  you?" 

"It's  no  different  than  the  only  life 
I've  known.  I  suppose  you  think  it's  a 
queer  kind  of  life  for  a  girl.  I've  lived 
by  doing  things,  not  by  thinking  things, 
or  reading  about  what  other  people  have 
done  or  thought;  and  I  guess  it's  what 
you  do  that  counts,  rather  than  what  you 
think  or  read  about.  Where's  that  pinch- 
bar?  We'll  get  a  couple  more  abalones 
for  supper,  and  then  put  off." 

That  was  the  only  talk  of  moment 
they  had  during  the  afternoon.  All  the 
rest  of  their  conversation  had  been  of 
those  things  that  immediately  occupied 
their  attention. 

They  regained  the  schooner  toward  five 
114 


A  Girl   Captain 

o'clock,  to  find  the  Chinamen  perplexed 
and  mystified.  No  explanation  was 
forthcoming,  and  Charlie  gave  them 
supper  in  preoccupied  silence.  As  they 
were  eating  the  abalones,  which  Moran 
had  fried  in  batter,  Charlie  said: 

"  Shark  all  gone !  No  more  catch  vvm 
— him  all  gone." 

"Gone— why?" 

"No  savvy,"  said  Charlie.  "No  likee, 
no  likee.  China  boy  tink  um  heap  fun 
ny,  too  much  heap  funny." 

It  was  true.  During  all  the  next  day 
not  a  shark  was  in  sight,  and  though  the 
crew  fished  assiduously  till  dark,  they 
were  rewarded  by  not  so  much  as  a  bite. 
No  one  could  offer  any  explanation. 

"Tis  strange,"  said  Moran.  "Never 
heard  of  shark  leaving  this  feed  before. 
And  you  can  see  with  half  an  eye  that 
the  hands  don't  like  the  looks  of  it.  Su 
perstitious  beggars!  they  need  to  be 
clumped  in  the  head." 

That  same  night  Wilbur  woke  in  his 
115 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

hammock  on  the  fo'c'stle  head  about  half- 
past  two.  The  moon  was  down,  the  sky 
one  powder  of  stars.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  wind.  It  was  so  still  that  he 
could  hear  some  large  fish  playing  and 
breaking  off  toward  the  shore.  Then, 
without  the  least  warning,  he  felt  the 
schooner  begin  to  lift  under  him.  He 
rolled  out  of  his  hammock  and  stood  on 
the  deck.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of 
it — the  whole  forepart  was  rising  beneath 
him.  He  could  see  the  bowsprit  mov 
ing  upward  from  star  to  star.  Still  the 
schooner  lifted ;  objects  on  deck  began  to 
slide  aft ;  the  oil  in  the  deck-tubs  washed 
over;  then,  as  there  came  a  wild  scram  - 
ling  of  the  Chinese  crew  up  the  fo'c'stle 
hatch,  she  settled  again  gradually  at  first, 
then,  with  an  abrupt  lurch  that  almost 
threw  him  from  his  feet,  regained  her 
level.  Moran  met  him  in  the  waist. 
Charlie  came  running  aft. 

"What  was  that?     Are  we  grounding? 
Has  she  struck?" 

116 


A  Girl  Captain 

"No,  no;  we're  still  fast  to  the  kelp 
Was  it  a  tidal  wave?" 

"  Nonsense.  It  wouldn't  have  handled 
us  that  way." 

"Well,  what  was  it?  Listen!  For 
God's  sake  keep  quiet  there  forward !" 

Wilbur  looked  over  the  side  into  the 
water.  The  ripples  were  still  chasing 
themselves  away  from  the  schooner. 
There  was  nothing  else.  The  stillness 
shut  down  again.  There  was  not  a 
sound. 


117 


VI 

A  Sea  Mystery 

IN  spite  of  his  best  efforts  at  self-con 
trol,  Wilbur  felt  a  slow,  cold  clutch  at 
his  heart.  That  sickening,  uncanny  lift 
ing  of  the  schooner  out  of  the  glassy 
water,  at  a  time  when  there  was  not 
enough  wind  to  so  much  as  wrinkle  the 
surface,  sent  a  creep  of  something  very 
like  horror  through  all  his  flesh. 

Again  he  peered  over  the  side,  down 
into  the  kelp-thickened  sea.  Nothing — 
not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring.  The 
gray  light  that  flooded  down  from  the 
stars  showed  not  a  break  upon  the  sur 
face  of  Magdalena  Bay.  On  shore,  noth 
ing  moved. 

"Quiet  there,  forward,"  called  Moran  to 
the  shrill-voiced  coolies. 

The  succeeding  stillness  was  profound. 
118 


A  Sea  Mystery 

All  on  board  listened  intently.  The 
water  dripped  like  the  ticking  of  a  clock 
from  the  Bertha  Millner's  stern,  which 
with  the  rising  of  the  bow  had  sunk  al 
most  to  the  rail.  There  was  no  other 
sound. 

"Strange,"  muttered  Moran,  her  brows 
contracting. 

Charlie  broke  the  silence  with  a  wail : 
"  No  likee,  no  likee ! "  he  cried  at  top 
voice. 

The  man  had  gone  suddenly  green; 
Wilbur  could  see  the  shine  of  his  eyes 
distended  like  those  of  a  harassed  cat. 
As  he,  Moran,  and  Wilbur  stood  in  the 
schooner's  waist,  staring  at  each  other, 
the  smell  of  punk  came  to  their  nostrils. 
Forward,  the  coolies  were  already  burn 
ing  joss-sticks  on  the  fo' castle  head,  kow 
towing  their  foreheads  to  the  deck. 

Moran  went  forward  and  kicked  them 
to  their  feet  and  hurled  their  joss-sticks 
into  the  sea. 

"Feng  shui!  Feng  shui!"  they  ex- 
119 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

claimed  with  bated  breaths.  "  The  Feng 
shui  no  likee  we." 

Low  in  the  east  the  horizon  began  to 
blacken  against  the  sky.  It  was  early 
morning.  A  watch  was  set,  the  China 
men  sent  below,  and  until  daybreak, 
when  Charlie  began  to  make  a  clatter 
ing  of  tins  in  the  galley  as  he  set  about 
preparing  breakfast,  Wilbur  paced  the 
rounds  of  the  schooner,  looking,  listen 
ing,  and  waiting  again  for  that  slow, 
horrifying  lift.  But  the  rest  of  the 
night  was  without  incident. 

After  breakfast,  the  strangely  assorted 
trio — Charlie,  Moran,  and  Wilbur — held 
another  conference  in  the  cabin.  It  was 
decided  to  move  the  schooner  to  the  other 
side  of  the  bay. 

"Feng  shui  in  disa  place,  no  likee  we," 
announced  Charlie. 

"Feng  shui,  who  are  they?" 

Charlie  promptly  became  incoherent  on 
this  subject,  and  Moran  and  Wilbur  could 
only  guess  that  the  Feng  shui  were  the 
120 


A  Sea  Mystery 

tutelary  deities  that  presided  over  that 
portion  of  Magdalena  Bay.  At  any  rate, 
there  were  evidently  no  more  shark  to  be 
caught  in  that  fishing-ground ;  so  sail  was 
made,  and  by  noon  the  Bertha  Millner 
tied  up  to  the  kelp  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  inlet,  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
shore. 

The  shark  were  plentiful  here,  and  the 
fishing  went  forward  again  as  before. 
Certain  of  these  shark  were  hauled 
aboard,  stunned  by  a  blow  on  the  nose, 
and  their  fins  cut  off.  The  Chinamen 
packed  these  fins  away  in  separate  kegs. 
Eventually  they  would  be  sent  to  China. 

Two  or  three  days  passed.  The  hands 
kept  steadily  at  their  work.  Nothing 
more  occurred  to  disturb  the  monotony  of 
the  scorching  days  and  soundless  nights ; 
the  schooner  sat  as  easily  on  the  un 
broken  water  as  though  built  to  the 
bottom.  Soon  the  night  watch  was  dis 
continued.  During  these  days  the  three 
officers  lived  high.  Turtle  were  plenti- 
121 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

f  ul,  and  what  with  their  steaks  and  soups, 
the  fried  abalones,  the  sea-fish,  the  really 
delicious  shark- fins,  and  the  quail  that 
Charlie  and  Wilbur  trapped  along  the 
shore,  the  trio  had  nothing  to  wish  for 
in  the  way  of  table  luxuries. 

The  shore  was  absolutely  deserted,  as 
well  as  the  back  country — an  unbroken 
wilderness  of  sand  and  sage.  Half  a 
dozen  times,  Wilbur,  wearying  of  his  in 
action  aboard  the  schooner,  made  the 
entire  circuit  of  the  bay  from  point  to 
point.  Standing  on  one  of  the  latter 
projections  and  looking  out  to  the  west, 
the  Pacific  appeared  as  empty  of  life 
as  the  land.  Never  a  keel  cut  those 
waters,  never  a  sail  broke  the  edge  of  the 
horizon,  never  a  feather  of  smoke  spot 
ted  the  sky  where  it  whitened  to  meet 
the  sea.  Everything  was  empty — vast  un 
speakably  desolate — palpitating  with  heat. 

Another  week  passed.  Charlie  began 
to  complain  that  the  shark  were  growing 
scarce  again. 

122 


A.  Sea  Mystery 

"  I  think  bime-by  him  go  way,  once  a 
mo'." 

That  same  night,  Wilbur,  lying  in  his 
hammock,  was  awakened  by  a  touch  on 
his  arm.  He  woke  to  see  Moran  beside 
him  on  the  deck. 

"Did  you  hear  anything?"  she  said  in 
a  low  voice,  looking  at  him  under  her 
scowl. 

"No!  no!"  he  exclaimed,  getting  up, 
reaching  for  his  wicker  sandals.  "Did 
you?" 

"I  thought  so — something.  Did  you 
feel  anything?" 

"I've  been  asleep,  I  haven't  noticed 
anything.  Is  it  beginning  again?" 

"The  schooner  lifted  again,  just  now, 
very  gently.  I  happened  to  be  awake  or 
I  wouldn't  have  noticed  it."  They  were 
talking  in  low  voices,  as  is  the  custom  of 
people  speaking  in  the  dark. 

"There,  what's  that?"  exclaimed  Wil 
bur  under  his  breath.  A  gentle  vibra 
tion,  barely  perceptible,  thrilled  through 
123 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

the  schooner.  Under  his  hand,  that  was 
clasped  upon  the  rail,  Wilbur  could  feel  a 
faint  trembling  in  her  frame.  It  stopped, 
began  again,  and  died  slowly  away. 

"Well,  what  the  devil  is  it?"  he  mut 
tered  impatiently,  trying  to  master  the 
returning  creep  of  dread. 

Moran  shook  her  head,  biting  her  lip. 

"It's  beyond  me,"  she  said,  frowning. 
"Can  you  see  anything?"  The  sky,  sea, 
and  land  were  unbroken  reaches  of  soli 
tude.  There  w^as  no  breath  of  wind. 

"  Listen,"  said  Moran.  Far  off  to  land 
ward  came  the  faint,  sleepy  clucking  of  a 
quail,  and  the  stridulating  of  unnumbered 
crickets;  a  long  ripple  licked  the  slope 
of  the  beach  and  slid  back  into  the 
ocean.  Wilbur  shook  his  head. 

"Don't  hear  anything,"  he  whispered. 
"Sh — there — she's  trembling  again." 

Once  more  a  prolonged  but  faint  quiv 
ering  ran  through  the  Bertha  Millner 
from  stem  to  stern,  and  from  keel  to 
masthead.  There  was  a  barely  audible 
124 


A  Sea  Mystery 

creaking  of  joints  and  panels.  The  oil 
in  the  deck-tubs  trembled.  The  vibra 
tion  was  so  fine  and  rapid  that  it  tickled 
the  soles  of  Wilbur's  feet  as  he  stood  on 
the  deck. 

"  I'd  give  two  fingers  to  know  what  it 
all  means,"  murmured  Moran  in  a  low 

voice.  "I've  been  to  sea  for ' 

Then  suddenly  she  cried  aloud :  "  Steady 
all,  she's  lifting  again !  " 

The  schooner  heaved  slowly  under 
them,  this  time  by  the  stern.  Up  she 
went,  up  and  up,  while  Wilbur  gripped 
at  a  stay  to  keep  his  place,  and  tried  to 
choke  down  his  heart,  that  seemed  to 
beat  against  his  palate. 

"God!"  ejaculated  Moran,  her  eyes 

blazing.  "This  thing  is "  The 

Bertha  came  suddenly  down  to  an  easy 
keel,  rocking  in  that  glassy  sea  as  if  in  a 
tide  rip.  The  deck  was  awash  with  oil. 
Far  out  in  the  bay  the  ripples  widening 
from  the  schooner  blurred  the  reflections  of 
the  stars.  The  Chinamen  swarmed  up  the 
125 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

hatchway,  voluble  and  shrill.  Again  the 
Bertha  Millner  lifted  and  sank,  the  tubs 
sliding  on  the  deck,  the  masts  quivering 
like  reeds,  the  timbers  groaning  aloud 
with  the  strain.  In  the  stern  something 
cracked  and  smashed.  Then  the  trouble 
died  away,  the  ripples  faded  into  the 
ocean,  and  the  schooner  settled  to  her 
keel,  quite  motionless. 

"Look,"  said  Moran,  her  face  toward 
the  Bertha's  stern.  "  The  rudder  is  out 
of  the  gudgeons."  It  was  true — the 
Bertha  Millner' 's  helm  was  unshipped. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  for  any  one 
on  board  that  night.  Wilbur  tramped 
the  quarter-deck,  sick  with  a  feeling  he 
dared  not  put  a  name  to.  Moran  sat  by 
the  wrecked  rudder-head,  a  useless  pistol 
in  her  hand,  swearing  under  her  breath 
from  time  to  time.  Charlie  appeared  on 
the  quarter-deck  at  intervals,  looked  at 
Wilbur  and  Moran  with  wide-open  eyes, 
and  then  took  himself  away.  On  the 
forward  deck  the  coolies  pasted  strips  of 
126 


A  Sea  Mystery 

red  paper  inscribed  with  mottoes  upon  the 
mast,  and  filled  the  air  with  the  reek  of 
their  joss-sticks. 

"If  one  could  only  see  what  it  was," 
growled  Moran  between  her  clenched 
teeth.  "  But  this — this  damned  heaving 
and  trembling,  it — it's  queer." 

"That's  it,  that's  it,"  said  Wilbur 
quickly,  facing  her.  "What  are  we  go 
ing  to  do,  Moran?" 

"Stick  it  out!"  she  exclaimed,  strik 
ing  her  knee  with  her  fist.  "We  can't 
leave  the  schooner  --  I  won't  leave 
her.  I'll  stay  by  this  dough-dish 
as  long  as  two  planks  in  her  hold 
together.  Were  you  thinking  of  cut 
ting  away?"  She  fixed  him  with  her 
frown. 

Wilbur  looked  at  her,  sitting  erect  by 
the  disabled  rudder,  her  head  bare,  her 
braids  of  yellow  hair  hanging  over  her 
breast,  sitting  th°,re  in  man's  clothes  and 
man's  boots,  the  pistol  at  her  side.  He 
shook  his  head. 

127 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"  I'm  not  leaving  the  Bertha  till  you 
do,"  he  answered;  adding:  "I'll  stand  by 
you,  mate,  until  we 

"Feel  that?"  said  Moran,  holding  up 
a  hand. 

A  fine,  quivering  tremble  was  thrilling 
through  every  beam  of  the  schooner,  vi 
brating  each  rope  like  a  harp-string.  It 
passed  away ;  but  before  either  Wilbur  or 
Moran  could  comment  upon  it  recom 
menced,  this  time  much  more  percep 
tibly.  Charlie  dashed  aft,  his  queue  fly 
ing. 

"Wat  makum  heap  shake?"  he 
shouted ;  "  w'at  for  him  shake  ?  No  savvy, 
no  likee,  pretty  much  heap  flaid ;  aie-yah, 
aie-yah !" 

Slowly  the  schooner  heaved  up  as 
though  upon  the  crest  of  some  huge  wave, 
slowly  it  settled,  and  again  gradually 
lifted,  till  Wilbur  had  to  catch  at  the 
rail  to  steady  his  footing.  The  quivering 
sensation  increased  so  that  their  very 
teeth  chattered  with  it.  Below  in  the 
128 


A  Sea  Mystery 

cabin  they  could  hear  small  objects  fall 
ing  from  the  shelves  and  table.  Then 
with  a  sudden  drop  the  Bertha  fell  back 
to  her  keel  again,  the  spilled  oil  spouting 
from  her  scuppers,  the  masts  rocking,  the 
water  churning  and  splashing  from  her 
sides. 

And  that  was  all.  There  was  no 
sound — nothing  was  in  sight.  There 
was  only  the  frightened  trembling  of  the 
little  schooner  and  that  long,  slow  heave 
and  lift. 

Morning  came,  and  breakfast  was  had 
in  silence  and  grim  perplexity.  It  was 
too  late  to  think  of  getting  away,  now 
that  the  rudder  was  disabled.  The  Ber 
tha  Millner  must  bide  where  she  was. 

"And  a  little  more  of  this  dancing," 
exclaimed  Moran,  "and  we'll  have  the 
planks  springing  off  the  stern-post." 

Charlie    nodded    solemnly.      He    said 

nothing  —  his     gravity     had     returned. 

Now  in  the  glare  of  the  tropical  day,  with 

the    Bertha   Millner    sitting   the    sea    as 

9  129 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

placidly  as  a  brooding  gull,  he  was  Tal 
leyrand  again. 

"I  tinkum  yas,"  he  said  vaguely. 

"  Well,  /  think  we  had  better  try  and 
fix  the  rudder  and  put  back  to  Frisco," 
said  Moran.  "  You're  making  no  money 
this  way.  There  are  no  shark  to  be 
caught.  Something's  wrong.  They're 
gone  away  somewhere.  The  crew  are 
eating  their  heads  off  and  not  earning 
enough  money  to  pay  for  their  keep. 
What  do  you  think?" 

"  I  tinkum  yas. " 

"  Then  we'll  go  home.     Is  that  it?" 

"  I  tinkum  yas — to-molla. " 

"To-morrow?" 

"Yas." 

"That's  settled  then,"  persisted  Moran, 
surprised  at  his  ready  acquiescence ;  "  we 
start  home  to-morrow?"  Charlie  nodded. 

"To-molla,"  he  said. 

The  rudder  was  not  so  badly  damaged 
as  they  had  at  first  supposed ;  the  break 
was  easily  mended,  but  it  was  found 
130 


A  Sea  Mystery 

necessary  for  one  of  the  men  to  go  over 
the  side. 

"Get  over  the  side  here,  Jim,"  com 
manded  Moran.  "Charlie,  tell  him 
what's  wanted;  we  can't  work  the  pintle 
in  from  the  deck." 

But  Charlie  shook  his  head. 

"Him  no  likee  go;  him  plenty  much 
flaid." 

Moran  ripped  out  an  oath. 

"What  do  I  care  if  he's  afraid!  I 
want  him  to  shove  the  pintle  into  the 
lower  gudgeon.  My  God,"  she  ex 
claimed,  with  immense  contempt,  "what 
carrion !  I'd  sooner  work  a  boat  with  she- 
monkeys.  Mr.  Wilbur,  I  shall  have  to 
ask  you  to  go  over.  I  thought  I  was 
captain  here,  but  it  all  depends  on 
whether  these  rats  are  afraid  or  not." 

"Plenty  many  shark,"  expostulated 
Charlie.  "Him  flaid  shark  come  back, 
catchum  chop-chop." 

"  Stand  by  here  with  a  couple  of  cut- 
ting-in  spades,"  cried  Moran,  "and  fend 
131 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

off  if  you  see  any  shark;  now,  then,  are 
you  ready,  mate  ?" 

Wilbur  took  his  determination  in 
both  hands,  threw  off  his  coat  and  san 
dals,  and  went  over  the  stern  rail. 

"Put  your  ear  to  the  water,"  called 
Moran  from  above;  "sometimes  you  can 
hear  their  flukes." 

It  took  but  a  minute  to  adjust  the 
pintle,  and  Wilbur  regained  the  deck 
again,  dripping  and  a  little  pale.  He 
knew  not  what  horrid  form  of  death 
might  have  been  lurking  for  him  down 
below  there  underneath  the  kelp.  As 
he  started  forward  for  dry  clothes  he  was 
surprised  to  observe  that  Moran  was  smil 
ing  at  him,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"That  was  well  done,"  she  said,  "and 
thank  you.  I've  seen  older  sailor-men 
than  you  who  wouldn't  have  taken  the 
risk."  Never  before  had  she  appeared 
more  splendid  in  his  eyes  than  at  this 
moment.  After  changing  his  clothes  in 
the  fo' castle,  he  sat  for  a  long  time, 
132 


A  Sea  Mystery 

his  chin  in  his  hands,  very  thoughtful. 
Then  at  length,  as  though  voicing  the 
conclusion  of  his  reflections,  said  aloud, 
as  he  rose  to  his  feet: 

"But,  of    course,  that   is    out   of   the 
question." 

He  remembered  that  they  were  going 
home  on  the  next  day.  Within  a  fort 
night  he  would  be  in  San  Francisco 
again — a  tax-payer,  a  police-protected 
citizen  once  more.  It  had  been  good  fun, 
after  all,  this  three  weeks'  life  on  the 
Bertha  Millner,  a  strange  episode  cut  out 
from  the  normal  circle  of  his  conven 
tional  life.  He  ran  over  the  incidents  of 
the  cruise — Kitchell,  the  turtle  hunt,  the 
finding  of  the  derelict,  the  dead  captain, 
the  squall,  and  the  awful  sight  of  the 
sinking  bark,  Moran  at  the  wheel,  the 
grewsome  business  of  the  shark-fishing, 
and  last  of  all  that  inexplicable  lifting 
and  quivering  of  the  schooner.  He  told 
himself  that  now  he  would  probably  never 
know  the  explanation  of  that  mystery. 
133 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

The  day  passed  in  preparations  to  put 
to  sea  again.  The  deck-tubs  and  hogs 
heads  were  stowed  below  and  the  tackle 
cleared  away.  By  evening  all  was  ready ; 
they  would  be  under-way  by  daybreak 
the  next  morning.  There  was  a  possi 
bility  of  their  being  forced  to  tow  the 
schooner  out  by  means  of  the  dory,  so 
light  were  the  airs  inside.  Once  beyond 
the  heads,  however,  they  were  sure  of  a 
breeze. 

About  ten  o'clock  that  night,  the  same 
uncanny  trembling  ran  through  the 
schooner  again,  and  about  half  an  hour 
later  she  lifted  gently  once  or  twice. 
But  after  that  she  was  undisturbed. 

Later  on  in  the  night — or  rather  early 
in  the  morning — Wilbur  woke  suddenly 
in  his  hammock  without  knowing  why, 
and  got  up  and  stood  listening.  The 
Bertha  Millner  was  absolutely  quiet. 
The  night  was  hot  and  still;  the  new 
moon,  canted  over  like  a  sinking  galleon, 
was  low  over  the  horizon.  Wilbur  lis- 
134 


A  Sea  Mystery 

tened  intently,  for  now  at  last  he  heard 
something. 

Between  the  schooner  and  the  shore  a 
gentle  sound  of  splashing  came  to  his 
ears,  and  an  occasional  crack  as  of  oars 
in  their  locks.  Was  it  possible  that  a 
boat  was  there  between  the  schooner  and 
the  land?  What  boat,  and  manned  by 
whom? 

The  creaking  of  oarlocks  and  the  dip 
of  paddles  was  unmistakable. 

Suddenly  Wilbur  raised  his  voice  in  a 
great  shout : 

"Boat  ahoy!" 

There  was  no  answer ;  the  noise  of  oars 
grew  fainter.  Moran  came  running  out 
of  her  cabin,  swinging  into  her  coat  as 
she  ran. 

"What  is  it — what  is  it?" 

"  A  boat,  I  think,  right  off  the  schooner 
here.  Hark — there — did  you  hear  the 
oars?" 

"You're  right;  call  the  hands,  get  the 
dory  over,  we'll  follow  that  boat  right 
135 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

up.  Hello,  forward  there,  Charlie,  all 
hands,  tumble  out !  " 

Then  Wilbur  and  Moran  caught  them 
selves  looking  into  each  other's  eyes. 
At  once  something — perhaps  the  latent 
silence  of  the  schooner — told  them  there 
was  to  be  no  answer.  The  two  ran  for 
ward;  Moran  swung  herself  into  the  fo'- 
castle  hatch,  and  without  using  the  ladder 
dropped  to  the  deck  below.  In  an  in 
stant  her  voice  came  up  to  the  hatch : 

"  The  bunks  are  empty — they're  gone- 
abandoned  us."  She  came  up  the  ladder 
again. 

"Look,"  said  Wilbur,  as  she  regained 
the  deck.  "The  dory's  gone;  they've 
taken  it.  It  was  our  only  boat;  we  can't 
get  ashore." 

"  Cowardly,  superstitious  rats,  I  should 
have  expected  this.  They  would  be 
chopped  in  bits  before  they  would  stay 
longer  on  board  this  boat — they  and  their 
Feng-shui. " 

When  morning  came  the  deserters 
136 


A  Sea  Mystery 

could  be  made  out  camped  on  the  shore, 
near  to  the  beached  dory.  What  their 
intentions  were  could  not  be  conjectured. 
Ridden  with  all  manner  of  nameless 
Oriental  superstitions,  it  was  evident  that 
the  Chinamen  preferred  any  hazard  of 
fortune  to  remaining  longer  upon  the 
schooner. 

"Well,  can  we  get  along  without 
them?"  said  Wilbur.  " Can  we  two  work 
the  schooner  back  to  port  ourselves?" 

"We'll  try  it  on,  anyhow,  mate,"  said 
Moran ;  "  we  might  get  her  into  San  Die 
go,  anyhow." 

The  Chinamen  had  left  plenty  of 
provisions  on  board,  and  Moran  cooked 
breakfast.  Fortunately,  by  eight  o'clock 
a  very  light  westerly  breeze  came  up. 
Moran  and  Wilbur  cast  off  the  gaskets 
and  set  the  fore  and  main  sails. 

Wilbur  was  busy  at  the  forward  bitts 
preparing  to  cast  loose  from  the  kelp,  and 
Moran  had  taken  up  her  position  at  the 
wheel,  when  suddenly  she  exclaimed : 
137 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"Sail  ho! — and  in  God's  name  what 
kind  of  a  sail  do  you  call  it?" 

In  fact  a  strange-looking  craft  had  just 
made  her  appearance  at  the  entrance  of 
Magdalena  Bay. 


138 


VII 
Beachcombers 

Wilbur  returned  aft  and  joined  Moran 
on  the  quarter-deck.  She  was  already 
studying  the  stranger  through  the  glass. 

"  That's  a  new  build  of  boat  to  me,"  she 
muttered,  giving  Wilbur  the  glass.  Wil 
bur  looked  long  and  carefully.  The  new 
comer  was  of  the  size  and  much  the  same 
shape  as  a  caravel  of  the  fifteenth  century 
—high  as  to  bow  and  stern,  and  to  all  ap 
pearances  as  seaworthy  as  a  soup-tureen. 
Never  but  in  the  old  prints  had  Wilbur 
seen  such  an  extraordinary  boat.  She 
carried  a  single  mast,  which  listed  for 
ward;  her  lugsail  was  stretched  upon 
dozens  of  bamboo  yards ;  she  drew  hard 
ly  any  water.  Two  enormous  red  eyes 
were  painted  upon  either  side  of  her 
high,  blunt  bow,  while  just  abaft  the 
139 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

waist  projected  an  enormous  oar,  or 
sweep,  full  forty  feet  in  length — longer, 
in  fact,  than  the  vessel  herself.  It  acted 
partly  as  a  propeller,  partly  as  a  rudder. 

"They're  heading  for  us,"  commented 
Wilbur  as  Moran  took  the  glass  again. 

"Right,"  she  answered;  adding  upon 
the  moment:  "Huh!  more  Chinamen; 
the  thing  is  alive  with  coolies;  she's  a 
junk." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Wilbur,  recollecting 
some  talk  of  Charlie's  he  had  overheard. 
"I  know." 

"You  know?" 

"Yes;  these  are  real  beachcombers. 
I've  heard  of  them  along  this  coast — 
heard  our  Chinamen  speak  of  them. 
They  beach  that  junk  every  night  and 
camp  on  shore.  They're  scavengers,  as 
you  might  say — pick  up  what  they  can 
find  or  plunder  along  shore — abalones, 
shark-fins,  pickings  of  wrecks,  old  brass 
and  copper,  seals,  perhaps,  turtle  and 
shell.  Between  whiles  they  fish  for 
140 


Beachcombers 

shrimp,  and  I've  heard  Kitchell  tell  how 
they  make  pearls  by  dropping  bird-shot 
into  oysters.  They  are  Kai-gingh  to  a 
man,  and,  according  to  Kitchell,  the 
wickedest  breed  of  cats  that  ever  cut 
teeth." 

The  junk  bore  slowly  down  upon  the 
schooner.  In  a  few  moments  she  had  hove 
to  alongside.  But  for  the  enormous  red 
eyes  upon  her  bow  she  was  innocent  of 
paint.  She  was  grimed  and  shellacked 
with  dirt  and  grease,  and  smelt  abomin 
ably.  Her  crew  were  Chinamen;  but 
such  Chinamen !  The  coolies  of  the  Ber 
tha  Millner  were  pampered  and  effete  in 
comparison.  The  beachcombers,  thir 
teen  in  number,  were  a  smaller  class  of 
men,  their  faces  almost  black  with  tan 
and  dirt.  Though  they  still  wore  the 
queue,  their  heads  were  not  shaven, 
and  mats  and  mops  of  stiff  black  hair 
fell  over  their  eyes  from  under  their 
broad,  basket-shaped  hats. 

They  were  barefoot.  None  of  them 
141 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

wore  more  than  two  garments — the  jeans 
and  the  blouse.  They  were  the  lowest 
type  of  men  Wilbur  had  ever  seen.  The 
faces  were  those  of  a  higher  order  of 
anthropoid  apes:  the  lower  portion- 
jaws,  lips,  and  teeth — salient;  the  nos 
trils  opening  at  almost  right  angles,  the 
eyes  tiny  and  bright,  the  forehead  seamed 
and  wrinkled  —  unnaturally  old.  Their 
general  expression  was  one  of  simian 
cunning  and  a  ferocity  that  was  utterly 
devoid  of  courage. 

"Aye!"  exclaimed  Moran  between  her 
teeth,  "  if  the  devil  were  a  shepherd,  here 
are  his  sheep.  You  don't  come  aboard 
this  schooner,  my  friends !  I  want  to 
live  as  long  as  I  can,  and  die  when  I 
can't  help  it.  Boat  ahoy !"  she  called. 

An  answer  in  Cantonese  sing-song 
came  back  from  the  junk,  and  the 
speaker  gestured  toward  the  outside 
ocean. 

Then    a   long   parleying   began.      For 
upward  of  half  an  hour  Moran  and  Wil- 
142 


Beachcombers 

bur  listened  to  a  proposition  in  broken 
pigeon-English  made  by  the  beachcomb 
ers  again  and  again  and  yet  again,  and 
were  in  no  way  enlightened.  It  was  im 
possible  to  understand.  Then  at  last 
they  made  out  that  there  was  question  of 
a  whale.  Next  it  appeared  the  whale 
was  dead;  and  finally,  after  a  prolonged 
pantomime  of  gesturing  and  pointing, 
Moran  guessed  that  the  beachcombers 
wanted  the  use  of  the  Bertha  Millner  to 
trice  up  the  dead  leviathan  while  the  oil 
and  whalebone  were  extracted. 

"That  must  be  it,"  she  said  to  Wilbur. 
"  That's  what  they  mean  by  pointing  to 
our  masts  and  tackle.  You  see,  they 
couldn't  manage  with  that  stick  of  theirs, 
and  they  say  they'll  give  us  a  third  of  the 
loot.  We'll  do  it,  mate,  and  I'll  tell  you 
why.  The  wind  has  fallen,  and  they 
can  tow  us  out.  If  it's  a  sperm-whale 
they've  found,  there  ought  to  be  thirty  or 
forty  barrels  of  oil  in  him,  let  alone  the 
blubber  and  bone.  Oil  is  at  $50  now,  and 
143 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

spermaceti  will  always  bring  $100.  We'll 
take  it  on,  mate,  but  we'll  keep  our  eyes 
on  the  rats  all  the  time.  I  don't  want 
them  aboard  at  all.  Look  at  their  belts. 
Not  three  out  of  the  dozen  who  aren't 
carrying  those  filthy  little  hatchets. 
Faugh!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  shudder 
of  disgust.  "  Such  vipers !" 

What  followed  proved  that  Moran  had 
guessed  correctly.  A  rope  was  passed  to 
the  Bertha  Millner,  the  junk  put  out  its 
sweep,  and  to  a  wailing,  eldritch  chant 
ing  the  schooner  was  towed  out  of  the 


"  I  wonder  what  Charlie  and  our  China 
boys  will  think  of  this?"  said  Wilbur, 
looking  shoreward,  where  the  deserters 
could  be  seen  gathered  together  in  a  si 
lent,  observing  group. 

"We're  well  shut  of  them,"  growled 
Moran,  her  thumbs  in  her  belt.  "  Only, 
now  we'll  never  know  what  was  the  mat 
ter  with  the  schooner  these  last  few 
nights.  Hah !"  she  exclaimed  under  her 
144 


Beachcombers 

breath,  her  scowl  thickening,  "  sometimes 
I  don't  wonder  the  beasts  cut." 

The  dead  whale  was  lying  four  miles 
out  of  the  entrance  of  Magdalena  Bay, 
and  as  the  junk  and  the  schooner  drew 
near  seemed  like  a  huge  black  boat  float 
ing  bottom  up.  Over  it  and  upon  it 
swarmed  and  clamored  thousands  of  sea- 
birds,  while  all  around  and  below  the 
water  was  thick  with  gorging  sharks.  A 
dreadful,  strangling  decay  fouled  all  the 
air. 

The  whale  was  a  sperm-whale,  and 
fully  twice  the  length  of  the  Bertha 
Millner.  The  work  of  tricing  him  up 
occupied  the  beachcombers  throughout 
the  entire  day.  It  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion  to  keep  them  off  the  schooner,  and 
Wilbur  and  Moran  were  too  wise  to  try. 
They  swarmed  the  forward  deck  and  rig 
ging  like  a  plague  of  unclean  monkeys, 
climbing  with  an  agility  and  nimbleness 
that  made  Wilbur  sick  to  his  stomach. 
They  were  unlike  any  Chinamen  he  had 
10  145 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

ever  seen — hideous  to  a  degree  that  he 
had  imagined  impossible  in  a  human  be 
ing.  On  two  occasions  a  fight  developed, 
and  in  an  instant  the  little  hatchets  were 
flashing  like  the  flash  of  a  snake's  fangs. 
Toward  the  end  of  the  day  one  of  them 
returned  to  the  junk,  screaming  like  a 
stuck  pig,  a  bit  of  his  chin  bitten  off. 

Moran  and  Wilbur  kept  to  the  quarter 
deck,  always  within  reach  of  the  huge 
cutting-in  spades,  but  the  Chinese  beach 
combers  were  too  elated  over  their  prize 
to  pay  them  much  attention. 

And  indeed  the  dead  monster  proved 
a  veritable  treasure-trove.  By  the  end 
of  the  day  he  had  been  triced  up  to  the 
foremast,  and  all  hands  straining  at  the 
windlass  had  raised  the  mighty  head  out 
of  the  water.  The  Chinamen  descended 
upon  the  smooth,  black  body,  their  bare 
feet  sliding  and  slipping  at  every  step. 
They  held  on  by  jabbing  their  knives  into 
the  hide  as  glacier- climbers  do  their  ice 
picks.  The  head  yielded  barrel  after  bar- 
146 


Beachcombers 

rel  of  oil  and  a  fair  quantity  of  bone.  The 
blubber  was  taken  aboard  the  junk,  minced 
up  with  hatchets,  and  run  into  casks. 

Last  of  all,  a  Chinaman  cut  a  hole 
through  the  "  case,"  and,  actually  descend 
ing  into  the  inside  of  the  head,  stripped 
away  the  spermaceti  (clear  as  crystal),  and 
packed  it  into  buckets,  which  were  hauled 
up  on  the  junk's  deck.  The  work  occu 
pied  some  two  or  three  days.  During 
this  time  the  Bertha  Millner  was  keeled 
over  to  nearly  twenty  degrees  by  the 
weight  of  the  dead  monster.  However, 
neither  Wilbur  nor  Moran  made  protest. 
The  Chinamen  would  do  as  they  pleased ; 
that  was  said  and  signed.  And  they  did 
not  release  the  schooner  until  the  whale 
had  been  emptied  of  oil  and  blubber, 
spermaceti  and  bone. 

At  length,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  third 
day,  the  captain  of  the  junk,  whose  name 
was  Hoang,  presented  himself  upon  the 
quarter  -  deck.  He  was  naked  to  the 
waist,  and  his  bare  brown  torso  was 
147 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

gleaming  with  oil  and  sweat.  His  queue 
was  coiled  like  a  snake  around  his  neck, 
his  hatchet  thrust  into  his  belt. 

"Well?"  said  Moran,  coming  up. 

Wilbur  caught  his  breath  as  the  two 
stood  there  facing  each  other,  so  sharp 
was  the  contrast.  The  man,  the  Mon 
golian,  small,  weazened,  leather- colored, 
secretive — a  strange,  complex  creature, 
steeped  in  all  the  obscure  mystery  of  the 
East,  nervous,  ill  at  ease;  and  the  girl, 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  daughter  of  the  North 
men,  huge,  blonde,  big-boned,  frank,  out 
spoken,  simple  of  composition,  open  as 
the  day,  bareheaded,  her  great  ropes  of 
sandy  hair  falling  over  her  breast  and  al 
most  to  the  top  of  her  knee-boots.  As 
he  looked  at  the  two,  Wilbur  asked  him 
self  where  else  but  in  California  could 
such  abrupt  contrasts  occur. 

"  All  light, "  announced  Hoang ;  "  catch  - 
um   all  oil,  catchum  all  bone,    catchum 
all  same  plenty  many.     You  help  catch 
um,  now  you  catchum  pay.     Sabe? 
148 


Beachcombers 

The  three  principals  came  to  a  set 
tlement  with  unprecedented  directness. 
Like  all  Chinamen,  Hoang  was  true  to 
his  promises,  and  had  already  set  apart 
three  and  a  half  barrels  of  spermaceti, 
ten  barrels  of  oil,  and  some  twenty  pounds 
of  bone  as  the  schooner's  share  in  the 
transaction.  There  was  no  discussion 
over  the  matter.  He  called  their  atten 
tion  to  the  discharge  of  his  obligations, 
and  hurried  away  to  summon  his  men 
aboard  and  get  the  junk  under  way  again. 

The  beachcombers  returned  to  their 
junk,  and  Wilbur  and  Moran  set  about 
cutting  the  carcass  of  the  whale  adrift. 
They  found  it  would  be  easier  to  cut 
away  the  hide  from  around  the  hooks  and 
loops  of  the  tackle  than  to  unfasten  the 
tackle  itself. 

"The  knots  are  jammed  hard  as  steel," 
declared  Moran.  "  Hand  up  that  cutting- 
in  spade;  stand  by  with  the  other  and 
cut  loose  at  the  same  time  as  I  do,  so  we 
can  ease  off  the  strain  on  these  lines  at 
149 


Moran   of  the   Lady  Letty 

the  same  time.  Ready  there,  cut!"  Mo- 
ran  set  free  the  hook  in  the  loop  of  black 
skin  in  a  couple  of  strokes,  but  Wilbur 
was  more  clumsy ;  the  skin  resisted.  He 
struck  at  it  sharply  with  the  heavy  spade ; 
the  blade  hit  the  iron  hook,  glanced  off, 
and  opened  a  large  slit  in  the  carcass  be 
low  the  head.  A  gush  of  entrails  started 
from  the  slit,  and  Moran  swore  under 
breath. 

"  Ease  away,  quick  there !  You'll  have 
the  mast  out  of  her  next — steady !  Hold 
your  spade — what's  that?" 

Wilbur  had  nerved  himself  against  the 
dreadful  stench  he  expected  would  issue 
from  the  putrid  monster,  but  he  was  sur 
prised  to  note  a  pungent,  sweet,  and  spicy 
odor  that  all  at  once  made  thick  the  air 
about  him.  It  was  an  aromatic  smell, 
stronger  than  that  of  the  salt  ocean, 
stronger  even  than  the  reek  of  oil  and 
blubber  from  the  schooner's  waist — sweet 
as  incense,  penetrating  as  attar,  delicious 
as  a  summer  breeze. 

150 


Beachcombers 

"  It  smells  pretty  good,  whatever  it  is," 
he  answered.  Moran  came  up  to  where 
he  stood,  and  looked  at  the  slit  he  had 
made  in  the  whale's  carcass.  Out  of  it 
was  bulging  some  kind  of  dull  white 
matter  marbled  with  gray.  It  was  a 
hard  lump  of  irregular  shape  and  about 
as  big  as  a  hogshead. 

Moran  glanced  over  to  the  junk,  some 
forty  feet  distant.  The  beach-combers 
were  hoisting  the  lug-sail.  Hoang  was 
at  the  steering  oar. 

"Get  that  stuff  aboard,"  she  com 
manded  quietly. 

"That!"  exclaimed  Wilbur,  pointing  to 
the  lump. 

Moran's  blue  eyes  were  beginning  to 
gleam. 

"Yes,  and  do  it  before  the  Chinamen 
see  you." 

"But — but  I  don't  understand." 

Moran  stepped  to  the  quarter-deck,  un- 
slung  the  hammock  in  which  Wilbur  slept, 
and  tossed  it  to  him. 
151 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"  Reeve  it  up  in  that ;  I'll  pass  you  a 
line,  and  we'll  haul  it  aboard.  Godsend, 
those  vermin  yonder  have  got  smells 
enough  of  their  own  without  notic- 
ingt  his.  Hurry,  mate,  I'll  talk  after 
ward." 

Wilbur  went  over  the  side,  and,  stand 
ing  as  best  he  could  upon  the  slippery 
carcass,  dug  out  the  lump  and  bound  it 
up  in  the  hammock. 

"Hoh!"  exclaimed  Moran,  with  sudden 
exultation.  "There's  a  lot  of  it.  That's 
the  biggest  lump  yet,  I'll  be  bound.  Is 
that  all  there  is,  mate? — look  care 
fully.  "  Her  voice  had  dropped  to  a  whis 
per. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  that's  all.  Careful  now 
when  you  haul  up — Hoang  has  got  his 
eye  on  you,  and  so  have  the  rest  of  them. 
What  do  you  call  it,  anyhow?  Why  are 
you  so  particular  about  it?  Is  it  worth 
anything?" 

"  I  don't  know — perhaps,     We'll  have 
a  look  at  it,  anyway." 
152 


Beachcombers 

Moran  hauled  the  stuff'  aboard,  and 
Wilbur  followed. 

"  Whew !"  he  exclaimed  with  half- 
closed  eyes.  "  It's  like  the  story  of  Sam 
son  and  the  dead  lion — the  sweet  coming 
forth  from  the  strong." 

The  schooner  seemed  to  swim  in  a  bath 
of  perfumed  air ;  the  membrane  of  the  nos 
trils  fairly  pringled  with  the  sensation. 
Moran  unleashed  the  hammock,  and  go 
ing  down  upon  one  knee  examined  the 
lump  attentively. 

"  It  didn't  seem  possible,"  Wilbur  heard 
her  saying  to  herself ;  "  but  there  can't  be 
any  mistake.  It's  the  stuff,  right  enough. 
I've  heard  of  such  things,  but  this — but 
this —  She  rose  to  her  feet,  tossing 

back  her  hair. 

"Well,"  said  Wilbur,  "what  do  you 
call  it?" 

"The  thing  to  do  now,"  returned  Mo 
ran,  "  is  to  get  clear  of  here  as  quietly  and 
as  quickly  as  we  can,  and  take  this  stuff 
with  us.  I  can't  stop  to  explain  now, 
153 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

but  it's  big — it's  big.  Mate,  it's  big  as 
the  Bank  of  England." 

*  Those  beachcombers  are  right  on  to 
the  game,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Wilbur. 
"Look,  they're  watching  us.  This  stuff 
would  smell  across  the  ocean." 

"  Eot  the  beachcombers !  There's  a  bit  of 
wind,  thank  God,  and  we  can  do  four  knots 
to  their  one,  just  let  us  get  clear  once." 

Moran  dragged  the  hammock  back  into 
the  cabin,  and  returning  upon  deck, 
helped  Wilbur  to  cut  away  the  last  tric 
ing  tackle.  The  schooner  righted  slowly 
to  an  even  keel.  Meanwhile  the  junk 
had  set  its  one  lug-sail  and  its  crew  had 
run  out  the  sweeps.  Hoang  took  the 
steering  sweep  and  worked  the  junk  to  a 
position  right  across  the  Bertha's  bows, 
some  fifty  feet  ahead. 

"They're  watching  us,  right  enough," 
said  Wilbur. 

"Up  your  mains'l,"  ordered  Moran. 
The  pair  set  the  fore  and  main  sails  with 
great  difficulty.  Moran  took  the  wheel 
154 


Beachcombers 

and  Wilbur  went  forward  to  cast  off  the 
line  by  which  the  schooner  had  been  tied 
up  to  one  of  the  whale's  flukes. 

"Cut  it!"  cried  the  girl.  "Don't  stop 
to  cast  off." 

There  was  a  hail  from  the  beachcomb 
ers  ;  the  port  sweeps  dipped  and  the  junk 
bore  up  nearer. 

"Hurry!"  shouted  Moran,  "don't  mind 
them.  Are  we  clear  for'rard — what's  the 
trouble?  Something's  holding  her."  The 
schooner  listed  slowly  to  starboard  and 
settled  by  the  head. 

"All  clear!"  cried  Wilbur. 

"  There's  something  wrong !"  exclaimed 
Moran;  "she's  settling  for'rard."  Hoang 
hailed  the  schooner  a  second  time. 

"We're  still  settling,"  called  Wilbur 
from  the  bows,  "what's  the  matter?" 

"Matter  that  she's  taking  water,"  an 
swered  Moran  wrathfully.  "  She's  started 
something  below,  what  with  all  that  lift 
ing  and  dancing  and  tricing  up." 

Wilbur  ran  back  to  the  quarter-deck. 
155 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

"This  is  a  bad  fix,"  lie  said  to  Moran. 
"Those  chaps  are  coming  aboard  again. 
They're  onto  something,  and,  of  course, 
at  just  this  moment  she  begins  to  leak." 

"They  are  after  that  ambergris,"  said 
Moran  between  her  teeth.  "  Smelt  it,  of 
course, — the  swine !" 

"Ambergris?" 

"The  stuff  we  found  in  the  whale. 
That's  ambergris." 

"Well?" 

"Well!"  shouted  Moran,  exasperated. 
"Do  you  know  that  we  have  found  a 
lump  that  will  weigh  close  to  250  pounds, 
and  do  you  know  that  ambergris  is  selling 
in  San  Francisco  at  $40  an  ounce?  Do 
you  know  that  we  have  picked  up  nearly 
$150,000  right  out  here  in  the  ocean  and 
are  in  a  fair  way  to  lose  it  all?" 

"Can't  we  run  for  it?" 

"Eun  for  it  in  a  boat   that's    taking 

water   like    a  sack!     Our    dory's    gone. 

Suppose  we  got  clear  of  the  junk,  and  the 

Bertha  sank?     Then  what?     If  we  only 

156 


Beachcombers 

had  our  crew  aboard ;  if  \ve  were  only  ten 
to  their  dozen — if  we  were  only  six — by 
Jupiter!  I'd  fight  them  for  it." 

The  two  enormous  red  eyes  of  the  junk 
loomed  alongside  and  stared  over  into  the 
Bertha's  waist.  Hoang  and  seven  of  the 
coolies  swarmed  aboard. 

"What  now?"  shouted  Moran,  com 
ing  forward  to  meet  them,  her  scowl 
knotting  her  flashing  eyes  together.  "  Is 
this  ship  yours  or  mine?  We've  done 
your  dirty  work  for  you.  I  want  you 
clear  of  my  deck. "  Wilbur  stood  at  her 
side,  uncertain  what  to  do,  but  ready  for 
anything  she  should  attempt. 

"  I  tink  you  catchum  someting,  smel- 
lum  pretty  big,"  said  Hoang,  his  ferret 
glance  twinkling  about  the  schooner. 

"I  catchum  nothing — nothing  but 
plenty  bad  stink,"  said  Moran.  "No, 
you  don't!"  she  exclaimed,  putting  her 
self  in  Hoang's  way  as  he  made  for  the 
cabin.  The  other  beachcombers  came 
crowding  up;  Wilbur  even  thought  he 
157 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

saw  one  of  them  loosening  his  hatchet  in 
his  belt. 

"This  ship's  mine,"  cried  Moran,  back 
ing  to  the  cabin  door.  Wilbur  followed 
her,  and  the  Chinamen  closed  down  upon 
the  pair. 

"It's  not  much  use,  Moran,"  he  mut 
tered.  "They'll  rush  us  in  a  minute." 

"  But  the  ambergris  is  mine — is  mine," 
she  answered,  never  taking  her  eyes  from 
the  confronting  coolies. 

"We  findurn  w'ale,"  said  Hoang;  "you 
no  find  w'ale;  him  b'long  to  we — eve'y- 
t'ing  in  um  w'ale  b'long  to  we,  savvy?" 

"  No,  you  promised  us  a  third  of  every 
thing  you  found." 

Even  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment 
it  occurred  to  Wilbur  that  it  was  quite 
possible  that  at  least  two-thirds  of  the 
ambergris  did  belong  to  the  beachcomb 
ers  by  right  of  discovery.  After  all,  it 
was  the  beachcombers  who  had  found  the 
whale.  He  could  never  remember  after 
ward  whether  or  no  he  said  as  much  to 
158 


Beachcombers 

Moran  at  the  time.  If  he  did,  she  had 
been  deaf  to  it.  A  fury  of  wrath  and 
desperation  suddenly  blazed  in  her  blue 
eyes.  Standing  at  her  side,  Wilbur  could 
hear  her  teeth  grinding  upon  each  other. 
She  was  blind  to  all  danger,  animated 
only  by  a  sense  of  injustice  and  impo 
sition. 

Hoang  uttered  a  sentence  in  Cantonese. 
One  of  the  coolies  jumped  forward,  and 
Moran 's  fist  met  him  in  the  face  and 
brought  him  to  his  knees.  Then  came 
the  rush  Wilbur  had  foreseen.  He  had 
just  time  to  catch  a  sight  of  Moran  at 
grapples  with  Hoang  when  a  little  hatch 
et  glinted  over  his  head.  He  struck  out 
savagely  into  the  thick  of  the  group — and 
then  opened  his  eyes  to  find  Moran  wash 
ing  the  blood  from  his  hair  as  he  lay  on 
the  deck  with  his  head  in  the  hollow  of 
her  arm.  Everything  was  quiet.  The 
beachcombers  were  gone. 

"Hello,  what — what — what  is  it?"  he 
asked,  springing  to  his  feet,  his  head 
159 


Moran   of  the  Lady   Letty 

swimming  and  smarting.  "We  had  a 
row,  didn't  we?  Did  they  hurt  you? 
Oh,  I  remember;  I  got  a  cut  over  the 
head — one  of  their  hatchet  men.  Did 
they  hurt  you?" 

"They  got  the  loot,"  she  growled. 
"  Filthy  vermin !  And  just  to  make  every 
thing  pleasant,  the  schooner's  sinking." 


160 


VIII 
A   Run  for  Land 

"SINKING!"  exclaimed  Wilbur. 

Moran  was  already  on  her  feet.  "  We'll 
have  to  beach  her,"  she  cried,  "and  we're 
six  miles  out.  Up  y'r  jib,  mate!"  The 
two  set  the  jib,  flying-jib,  and  staysails. 

The  fore  and  main  sails  were  already 
drawing,  and  under  all  the  spread  of  her 
canvas  the  Bertha  raced  back  toward  the 
shore. 

But  by  the  time  she  was  within  the 
head  of  the  bay  her  stern  had  settled  to 
such  an  extent  that  the  forefoot  was  clear 
of  the  water,  the  bowsprit  pointing  high 
into  the  heavens.  Moran  was  at  the 
wheel,  her  scowl  thicker  than  ever,  her 
eyes  measuring  the  stretch  of  water  that 
lay  between  the  schooner  and  the  shore. 

"She'll  never  make  it  in  God's  world," 
11  161 


Moran  of  the   Lady  Letty 

she  muttered  as  she  listened  to  the  wash 
of  the  water  in  the  cabin  under  her  feet. 
In  the  hold,  empty  barrels  were  afloat, 
knocking  hollowly  against  each  other. 
"We're  in  a  bad  way,  mate." 

"If  it  comes  to  that,"  returned  Wilbur, 
surprised  to  see  her  thus  easily  downcast, 
who  was  usually  so  indomitable.  "  If  it 
comes  to  that,  we  can  swim  for  it — a 
couple  of  planks— 

"Swim?"  she  echoed;  "I'm  not  think 
ing  of  that;  of  course  we.  could  swim." 

"What  then?" 

"The  sharks!" 

Wilbur's  teeth  clicked  sharply  togeth 
er.  He  could  think  of  nothing  to  say. 

As  the  water  gained  between  decks  the 
schooner's  speed  dwindled,  and  at  the 
same  time  as  she  approached  the  shore 
the  wind,  shut  off  by  the  land,  fell  away. 
By  this  time  the  ocean  was  not  four 
inches  below  the  stern-rail.  Two  miles 
away  was  the  nearest  sand-spit.  Wilbur 
broke  out  a  distress  signal  on  the  fore- 
162 


A  Run  for  Land 

mast,  in  the  hope  that  Charlie  and  the 
deserters  might  send  off  the  dory  to  their 
assistance.  But  the  deserters  were  no 
where  in  sight. 

"What  became  of  the  junk?"  he  de 
manded  suddenly  of  Moran.  She  mo 
tioned  to  the  westward  with  her  head. 
"Still  laying  outside." 

Twenty  minutes  passed.  Once  only 
Moran  spoke. 

"When  she  begins  to  go,"  she  said, 
"she'll  go  with  a  rush.  Jump  pretty 
wide,  or  you'll  get  caught  in  the  suc 
tion." 

The  two  had  given  up  all  hope.  (Moran 
held  grimly  to  the  wheel  as  a  mere  mat 
ter  of  form.  Wilbur  stood  at  her  side, 
his  clenched  fists  thrust  into  his  pockets. 
The  eyes  of  both  were  fixed  on  the  yellow 
line  of  the  distant  beach.  By  and  by 
Moran  turned  to  him  with  an  odd  smile. 

"We're  a  strange  pair  to  die  together," 
she  said.  Wilbur  met  her  eyes  an  in 
stant,  but  finding  no  reply,  put  his  chin 
163 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

in  the  air  as  though  he  would  have  told 
her  she  might  well  say  that. 

"A  strange  pair  to  die  together,"  Mo- 
ran  repeated ;  "  but  we  can  do  that  better 
than  we  could  have" — she  looked  away 
from  him — "could  have  lived  together," 
she  finished,  and  smiled  again. 

"And  yet,"  said  Wilbur,  "these  last 
few  weeks  here  on  board  the  schooner, 
we  have  been  through  a  good  deal — to 
gether.  I  don't  know,"  he  went  on  clum 
sily,  "I  don't  know  when  I've  been— 
when  I've  had — I've  been  happier  than 
these  last  weeks.  It  is  queer,  isn't  it?- 
I  know,  of  course,  what  you'll  say.  I've 
said  it  to  myself  often  of  late.  I  belong 
to  the  city  and  to  my  life  there,  and  you 
— you  belong  to  the  ocean.  I  never 
knew  a  girl  like  you — never  knew  a  girl 
could  be  like  you.  You  don't  know  how 
extraordinary  it  all  seems  to  me.  You 
swear  like  a  man,  and  you  dress  like  a 
man,  and  I  don't  suppose  you've  ever 
been  associated  with  other  women;  and 
164 


A  Run  for  Land 

you're  strong — I  know  you  are  as  strong 
as  I  am.  You  have  no  idea  how  differ 
ent  you  are  to  the  kind  of  girl  I've 
known.  Imagine  my  kind  of  girl  stand 
ing  up  before  Hoang  and  those  cutthroat 
beachcombers  with  their  knives  and 
hatchets.  Maybe  it's  because  you  are 
so  unlike  my  kind  of  girl  that — that 
things  are  as  they  are  with  me.  /  don't 
know.  It's  a  queer  situation.  A  month 
or  so  ago  I  was  at  a  tea  in  San  Francis 
co,  and  now  I'm  aboard  a  shark-fishing 
schooner  sinking  in  Magdalena  Bay ;  and 
I'm  with  a  girl  that — that — that  I — well, 
I'm  with  you,  and,  well,  you  know  how 
it  is — I  might  as  well  say  it — I  love  you 
more  than  I  imagined  I  ever  could  love 
a  girl." 

Moran's  frown  came  back  to  her  fore 
head. 

"I  don't  like  that  kind  of  talk,"  she 

said ;  "  I  am  not  used  to  it,  and  I  don't 

know  how  to  take  it.     Believe  me,"  she 

said  with  a  half  laugh,  "  it's  all  wasted. 

165 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

/  never  could  love  a  man.     I'm  not  made 
for  men." 

"No,"    said    Wilbur,    "nor   for    other 
women  either." 

"  Nor  for  other  women  either. " 
Wilbur  fell  silent.  In  that  instant  he 
had  a  distinct  vision  of  Moran's  life  and 
character,  shunning  men  and  shunned  of 
women,  a  strange,  lonely  creature,  soli 
tary  as  the  ocean  whereon  she  lived,  beau 
tiful  after  her  fashion;,  as  yet  without 
sex,  proud,  untamed,  splendid  in  her  sav 
age,  primal  independence — a  thing  un 
touched  and  unsullied  by  civilization. 
She  seemed  to  him  some  Bradamante, 
some  mythical  Brunhilde,  some  Valkyrie 
of  the  legends  born  out  of  season,  lost 
and  unfamiliar  in  this  end-of-the-century 
time.  Her  purity  was  the  purity  of  pri 
meval  glaciers.  He  could  easily  see  how 
to  such  a  girl  the  love  of  a  man  would 
appear  only  in  the  light  of  a  humiliation 
—a  degradation.  And  yet  she  could 
love,  else  how  had  he  been  able  to  love 
166 


A  Run  for  Land 

her?  Wilbur  found  himself — even  at 
that  moment — wondering  how  the  thing 
could  be  done — wondering  to  just  what 
note  the  untouched  cords  would  vibrate. 
Just  how  she  should  be  awakened  one 
morning  to  find  that  she — Moran,  sea- 
rover,  virgin  un conquered,  without  law, 
without  land,  without  sex — was,  after  all, 
a  woman. 

"By  God,  mate!"  she  exclaimed  of  a 
sudden.  "  The  barrels  are  keeping  us  up 
— the  empty  barrels  in  the  hold.  Hoh ! 
we'll  make  land  yet." 

It  was  true.  The  empty  hogsheads, 
destined  for  the  storage  of  oil,  had  been 
forced  up  by  the  influx  of  the  water  to 
the  roof  of  the  hold,  and  were  acting  as 
so  many  buoys — the  schooner  could  sink 
no  lower.  An  hour  later,  the  quarter 
deck  all  awash,  her  bow  thrown  high 
into  the  air,  listing  horribly  to  starboard, 
the  Bertha  Millner  took  ground  on  the 
shore  of  Magdalena  Bay  at  about  the  turn 
of  the  tide. 

167 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Moran  swung  herself  over  the  side,  hip 
deep  in  the  water,  and,  wading  ashore 
with  a  line,  made  fast  to  the  huge  skull 
of  a  whale  half  huried  in  the  sand  at  that 
point. 

Wilbur  followed.  The  schooner  had 
grounded  upon  the  southern  horn  of  the 
hay  and  lay  easily  on  a  spit  of  sand. 
They  could  not  examine  the  nature  of  the 
leak  until  low  water  the  next  morning. 

"Well,  here  we  are,"  said  Moran,  her 
thumbs  in  her  belt.  "What  next?  We 
may  be  here  for  two  days,  we  may  be 
here  for  two  years.  It  all  depends  upon 
how  bad  a  hole  she  has.  Have  we  'put 
in  for  repairs,'  or  have  we  been  cast  away, 
can't  tell  till  to-morrow  morning.  Mean 
while,  I'm  hungry." 

Half  of  the  stores  of  the  schooner  were 
water-soaked,  but  upon  examination  Wil 
bur  found  that  enough  remained  intact 
to  put  them  beyond  all  fear  for  the  present. 

''There's  plenty  of  water  up  the  creek," 
he  said,  "and  we  can  snare  all  the  quail 
168 


A  Run  for  Land 

we  want;  and  then  there's  the  fish  and 
abalone.  Even  if  the  stores  were  gone 
we  could  make  out  very  well." 

The  schooner's  cabin  was  full  of  water 
and  Wilbur's  hammock  was  gone,  so  the 
pair  decided  to  camp  on  shore.  In  that 
torrid  weather,  to  sleep  in  the  open  air  was 
a  luxury. 

In  great  good  spirits  the  two  sat  down 
to  their  first  meal  on  land.  Moran  cooked 
a  supper  that,  barring  the  absence  of  cof 
fee,  was  delicious.  The  whiskey  was  had 
from  aboard,  and  they  pledged  each  other, 
standing  up,  in  something  over  two  stiff 
fingers. 

"Moran,"  said  Wilbur,  "you  ought  to 
have  been  born  a  man." 

"  At  all  events,  mate,"  she  said, — "  at  all 
events,  I'm  not  a  girl." 

"  No  /"  exclaimed  Wilbur,  as  he  filled 
his  pipe.  "No,  you're  just  Moran,  Mo 
ran  of  the  Lady  Letty" 

"And  I'll  stay  that,  too,"  she  said  de 
cisively. 

169 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Never  had  an  evening  been  more  beau 
tiful  in  Wilbur's  eyes.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  air.  The  stillness  was  so  pro 
found  that  the  faint  murmur  of  the  blood 
behind  the  ear-drums  became  an  oppres 
sion.  The  ocean  tiptoed  toward  the  land 
with  tiny  rustling  steps.  The  West  was 
one  gigantic  stained  window,  the  ocean 
floor  a  solid  shimmer  of  opalescence.  Be 
hind  them,  sullen  purples  marked  the 
horizon,  hooded  with  mountain  crests, 
and  after  a  long  while  the  moon  shrugged 
a  gleaming  shoulder  into  view. 

Wilbur,  dressed  in  Chinese  jeans  and 
blouse,  with  Chinese  wicker  sandals  on 
his  bare  feet,  sat  with  his  back  against 
the  whale's  skull,  smoking  quietly.  For 
a  long  time  there  was  no  conversation; 
then  at  last : 

"No,"  said  Moran  in  a  low  voice. 
"This  is  the  life  I'm  made  for.  In  six 
years  I've  not  spent  three  consecutive 
weeks  on  land.  Now  that  Eilert"  (she 
always  spoke  of  her  father  by  his  first 
170 


A  Run  for  Land 

name),  "  now  that  Eilert  is  dead,  I've  not 
a  tie,  not  a  relative,  not  even  a  friend, 
and  I  don't  wish  it." 

"  But  the  loneliness  of  the  life,  the  sol 
itude,"  said  Wilbur,  "that's  what  I  don't 
understand.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you 
that  the  best  happiness  is  the  happiness 
that  one  shares?" 

Moran  clasped  a  knee  in  both  hands 
and  looked  out  to  sea.  She  never  wore 
a  hat,  and  the  red  light  of  the  afterglow 
was  turning  her  rye-hued  hair  to  saffron. 

"  Hoh !"  she  exclaimed,  her  heavy  voice 
pitched  even  lower  than  usual.  "Who 
could  understand  or  share  any  of  my 
pleasures,  or  be  happy  when  I'm  happy  ? 
And,  besides,  I'm  happiest  when  I'm 
alone — I  don't  want  any  one." 

"But,"  hesitated  Wilbur,  "one  is  not 
always  alone.  After  all,  you  are  a  girl, 
and  men,  sailor-men  especially,  are  beasts 
when  it's  a  question  of  a  woman — an  un 
protected  woman." 

"I'm  stronger  than  most  men,"  said 
171 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Moran  simply.  "If  you,  for  instance, 
had  been  like  some  men,  I  should  have 
fought  you.  It  wouldn't  have  been  the 
first  time,"  she  added,  smoothing  one 
huge  braid  between  her  palms. 

Wilbur  looked  at  her  with  intent  curi 
osity — noted  again,  as  if  for  the  first  time, 
the  rough,  blue  overalls  thrust  into  the 
shoes ;  the  coarse  flannel  shirt  open  at  the 
throat ;  the  belt  with  its  sheath-knife ;  her 
arms  big  and  white  and  tattooed  in  sailor 
fashion;  her  thick,  muscular  neck;  her 
red  face,  with  its  pale  blue  eyes  and  almost 
massive  jaw;  and  her  hair,  her  heavy, 
yellow,  fragrant  hair,  that  lay  over  her 
shoulder  and  breast,  coiling  and  looping 
in  her  lap. 

"No,"  he  said,  with  a  long  breath,  "I 
don't  make  it  out.  I  knew  you  were  oat 
of  my  experience,  but  I  begin  to  think 
now  that  you  are  out  of  even  my  imagina 
tion.  You  are  right,  you  should  keep  to 
yourself.  You  should  be  alone — your 
mate  isn't  made  yet.  You  are  splendid 
172 


A  Run  for  Land 

just  as  you  are,"  while  under  his  breath 
he  added,  his  teeth  clenching,  "  and  God ! 
but  I  love  you." 

It  was  growing  late,  the  stars  were 
all  out,  the  moon  riding  high.  Moran 
yawned : 

"Mate,  I  think  I'll  turn  in.  We'll 
have  to  be  at  that  schooner  early  in  the 
morning,  and  I  make  no  doubt  she'll  give 
us  plenty  to  do."  Wilbur  hesitated  to 
reply,  waiting  to  take  his  cue  from  what 
next  she  should  say.  "  It's  hot  enough  to 
sleep  where  we  are,"  she  added,  "without 
going  aboard  the  Bertha,  though  we  might 
have  a  couple  of  blankets  off  to  lie  on. 
This  sand's  as  hard  as  a  plank." 

Without  answering,  Wilbur  showed  her 
a  couple  of  blanket-rolls  he  had  brought 
off  while  he  was  unloading  part  of  the 
stores  that  afternoon.  They  took  one 
apiece  and  spread  them  on  the  sand  by 
the  bleached  whale's  skull.  Moran  pulled 
off  her  boots  and  stretched  herself  upon 
her  blanket  with  absolute  unconcern,  her 
173 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

hands  clasped  under  her  head.  Wilbur 
rolled  up  his  coat  for  a  pillow  and  settled 
himself  for  the  night  with  an  assumed  self- 
possession.  There  was  a  long  silence. 
Moran  yawned  again. 

"I  pulled  the  heel  off  my  boot  this 
morning,"  she  said  lazily,- "and  I've  been 
limping  all  day." 

"  I  noticed  it, "  answered  Wilbur.  "  Kit- 
chell  had  a  new  pair  aboard  somewhere, 
if  they're  not  spoiled  by  the  water  now." 

"Yes?"  she  said  indifferently;  "we'll 
look  them  up  in  the  morning." 

Again  there  was  silence. 

"I  wonder,"  she  began  again,  staring 
up  into  the  dark,  "if  Charlie  took  that 
frying-pan  off  with  him  when  he  went?" 

" I  don't  know.     He  probably  did." 

"  It  was  the  only  thing  we  had  to  cook 
abalones  in.  Make  me  think  to  look  into 
the  galley  to-morrow.  .  .  .  This  ground's 
as  hard  as  nails,  for  all  your  blankets.  .  .  . 
Well,  good-night,  mate;  I'm  going  to 


174 


A  Run  for  Land 

"  Good-night,  Moran. " 

Three  hours  later  Wilbur,  who  had  not 
closed  his  eyes,  sat  up  and  looked  at 
Moran,  sleeping  quietly,  her  head  in  a  pale 
glory  of  hair;  looked  at  her,  and  then 
around  him  at  the  silent,  deserted  land. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Am  I  a  right-minded  man  and  a  thor 
oughbred,  or  a  mush-head,  or  merely  a 
prudent,  sensible  sort  of  chap  that  values 
his  skin  and  bones  ?  I'd  be  glad  to  put  a 
name  to  myself. "  Then,  more  earnestly  he 
added :  "  Do  I  love  her  too  much,  or  not 
enough,  or  love  her  the  wrong  way,  or 
how?"  He  leaned  toward  her,  so  close 
that  he  could  catch  the  savor  of  her  breath 
and  the  smell  of  her  neck,  warm  with 
sleep.  The  sleeve  of  the  coarse  blue  shirt 
was  drawn  up,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
her  bare  arm,  flung  out  at  full  length,  had 
some  sweet  aroma  of  its  own.  Wilbur 
drew  softly  back. 

"No,"  he  said  to  himself  decisively; 
"no,  I  guess  I  am  a  thoroughbred  after 
175 


Moran   of  the  Lady  Letty 

all."  It  was  only  then  that  he  went  to 
sleep. 

When  he  awoke  the  sea  was  pink  with 
the  sunrise,  and  one  of  the  bay  heads  was 
all  distorted  and  stratified  by  a  mirage. 
It  was  hot  already.  Moran  was  sitting  a 
few  paces  from  him,  braiding  her  hair. 

"Hello,  Moran!"  he  said,  rousing  up; 
"how  long  have  you  been  up?" 

"Since  before  sunrise,"  she  said;  "I've 
had  a  bath  in  the  cove  where  the  creek 
runs  down.  I  saw  a  jack-rabbit." 

"Seen  anything  of  Charlie  and  the 
others?" 

"They've  camped  on  the  other  side  of 
the  bay.  But  look  yonder,"  she  added. 

The  junk  had  come  in  over  night,  and 
was  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  shore. 

"The  deuce!"  exclaimed  Wilbur. 
"What  are  they  after?" 

"Fresh  water,  I  guess,"  said  Moran, 
knotting  the  end  of  a  braid.  "  We'd  bet 
ter  have  breakfast  in  a  hurry,  and  turn  to 
on  the  Bertha.  The  tide  is  going  out  fast. " 
176 


A  Run  for  Land 

While  they  breakfasted  they  kept  an 
eye  on  the  schooner,  watching  her 
sides  and  flanks  as  the  water  fell  slowly 
away. 

"Don't  see  anything  very  bad  yet/ 
said  Wilbur. 

"It's  somewheres  in  her  stern,"  re 
marked  Moran. 

In  an  hour's  time  the  Bertha  Millner 
was  high  and  dry,  and  they  could  examine 
her  at  their  leisure.  It  was  Moran  who 
found  the  leak. 

"  Pshaw !"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  half- 
laugh,  "  we  can  stick  that  up  in  half  an 
hour." 

A  single  plank  had  started  away  from 
the  stern-post;  that  was  all.  Other 
wise  the  schooner  was  as  sound  as  the 
day  she  left  San  Francisco.  Moran  and 
Wilbur  had  the  damage  repaired  by  noon, 
nailing  the  plank  into  its  place  and  caulk 
ing  the  seams  with  lamp- wick.  Nor 
could  their  most  careful  search  discover 
any  further  injury. 

12  177 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

"We're  ready  to  go,"  said  Moran,  "so 
soon  as  she'll  float.  We  can  dig  away 
around  the  bows  here,  make  fast  a  line  to 
that  rock  out  yonder,  and  warp  her  off  at 
next  high  tide.  Hello!  who's  this?" 

It  was  Charlie.  While  the  two  had 
been  at  work,  he  had  come  around  the 
shore  unobserved,  and  now  stood  at  some 
little  distance,  smiling  at  them  calmly. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want?"  cried 
Moran  angrily.  "  If  you  had  your  rights, 
my  friend,  you'd  be  keelhauled." 

"I  tink  um  velly  hot  day." 

"You  didn't  come  here  to  say  that. 
What  do  you  want?" 

"I  come  hab  talkee-talk. " 

"We  don't  want  to  have  any  talkee- 
talk  with  such  vermin  as  you.  Get  out!" 

Charlie  sat  down  on  the  beach  and 
wiped  his  forehead. 

"  I  come  buy  one-piecee  bacon.  China 
boy  no  hab  got." 

"  We  aren't  selling  bacon  to  deserters," 
cried  Moran ;  "  and  I'll  tell  you  this,  you 
178 


A   Run   for   Land 

iil thy  little  monkey :  Mr.  Wilbur  and  I 
are  going  home — back  to  'Frisco — this 
afternoon ;  and  we're  going  to  leave  you 
and  the  rest  of  your  vipers  to  rot  on  this 
beach,  or  to  be  murdered  by  beachcomb 
ers,"  and  she  pointed  out  toward  the 
junk.  Charlie  did  not  even  follow  the 
direction  of  her  gesture,  and  from  this 
very  indifference  Wilbur  guessed  that  it 
was  precisely  because  of  the  beachcomb 
ers  that  the  Machiavellian  Chinaman  had 
wished  to  treat  with  his  old  officers. 

"No  hab  got  bacon?"  he  queried,  lift 
ing  his  eyebrows  in  surprise. 

"  Plenty  ;  but  not  for  you. " 

Charlie  took  a  buckskin  bag  from  his 
blouse  and  counted  out  a  handful  of  silver 
and  gold. 

"  I  buy  um  nisi  two-piecee  tobacco. " 

"Look  here,"  said  Wilbur  deliberately; 
"don't  you  try  to  flim-flam  us,  Charlie. 
We  know  you  too  well.  You  don't  want 
bacon  and  you  don't  want  tobacco." 

"China  boy  heap  plenty  much  sick. 
179 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

Two  boy  velly  sick.  I  tink  um  die  pretty 
soon  to-molla.  You  catch  um  slop-chest; 
you  gib  me  five,  seven  liver  pill.  Sabe?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you  want,"  cried 
Moran,  aiming  a  forefinger  at  him,  pistol 
fashion ;  "  you've  got  a  blue  funk  because 
those  Kai-gingh  beachcombers  have  come 
into  the  bay,  and  you're  more  frightened 
of  them  than  you  are  of  the  schooner; 
and  now  you  want  us  to  take  you  home." 

"How  muchee?" 

"  A  thousand  dollars. " 

Wilbur  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  He 
had  expected  a  refusal. 

"You  no  hab  got  liver  pill?"  inquired 
Charlie  blandly. 

Moran  turned  her  back  on  him.  She 
and  Wilbur  conferred  in  a  low  voice. 

"We'd  better  take  them  back,  if  we  de 
cently  can,"  said  Moran.  "The  schooner 
is  known,  of  course,  in  Frisco.  She  went 
out  with  Kitchell  and  a  crew  of  coolies, 
and  she  comes  back  with  you  and  I  aboard, 
••<  and  if  we  tell  the  truth  about  it,  it  will 
180 


A  Run  for  Land 

sound  like  a  lie,  and  we'll  have  no  end  of 
trouble.  Then  again,  can  just  you  and  I 
work  the  Bertha  into  port?  In  these 
kind  of  airs  it's  plain  work,  but  suppose 
we  have  dirty  weather  ?  I'm  not  so  sure. " 

"  I  gib  you  ten  dollah  fo'  ten  liver  pill," 
said  Charlie. 

"  Will  you  give  us  a  thousand  dollars 
to  set  you  down  in  San  Francisco?" 

Charlie  rose.  "  I  go  back.  I  tell  um 
China  boy  what  you  say  'bout  liver  pill. 
Bime-by  I  come  back." 

"  That  means  he'll  take  our  offer  back 
to  his  friends,"  said  Wilbur,  in  a  low 
voice.  "You  best  hurry  chop-chop,"  he 
called  after  Charlie ;  "  we  go  home  pretty 
soon!" 

"He  knows  very  well  we  can't  get 
away  before  high  tide  to-morrow,"  said 
Moran.  He'll  take  his  time." 

Later  on  in  the  afternoon   Moran  and 

Wilbur  saw  a  small  boat  put  off  from  the 

junk  and  make  a  landing  by  the  creek. 

The  beachcombers  were  taking  on  water. 

181 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

The  boat  made  three  trips  before  evening, 
but  the  beachcombers  made  no  show  of 
molesting  the  undefended  schooner,  or  in 
any  way  interfering  with  Charlie's  camp 
on  the  other  side  of  the  bay. 

"No!"  exclaimed  Moran  between  her 
teeth,  as  she  and  Wilbur  were  cooking 
supper;  "no,  they  don't  need  to;  they've 
got  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  of  loot  on  board — our  loot,  too! 
Good  God!  it  goes  against  the  grain!" 

The  moon  rose  considerably  earlier 
that  night,  and  by  twelve  o'clock  the  bay 
was  flooded  with  its  electrical  whiteness. 
Wilbur  and  Moran  could  plainly  make  out 
the  junk  tied  up  to  the  kelp  off-shore. 
But  toward  one  o'clock  Wilbur  was  awak 
ened  by  Moran  shaking  his  arm. 

"There's  something  wrong  out  there," 
she  whispered;  "something  wrong  with 
the  junk.  Hear  'em  squealing  ?  Look ! 
look !  look !"  she  cried  of  a  sudden ;  "  it's 
their  turn  now!" 

Wilbur  could  see  the  crank  junk,  with 
182 


A  Run  fof  Land 

its  staring  red  eyes,  high  stern  and  prow, 
as  distinctly  as  though  at  noonday.  As 
he  watched,  it  seemed  as  if  a  great  wave 
caught  her  suddenly  under  foot.  She 
heaved  up  bodily  out  of  the  water, 
dropped  again  with  a  splash,  rose  again, 
and  again  fell  back  into  her  own  ripples, 
that,  widening  from  her  sides,  broke  crisp 
ly  on  the  sand  at  Wilbur's  feet. 

Then  the  commotion  ceased  abruptly. 
The  bay  was  quiet  again.  An  hour 
passed,  then  two.  The  moon  began  to 
set.  Moran  and  Wilbur,  wearied  of 
watching,  had  turned  in  again,  when  they 
were  startled  to  wakefulness  by  the  creak 
of  oarlocks  and  the  sound  of  a  boat 
grounding  in  the  sand. 

The  coolies — the  deserters  from  the 
Bertha  Millner — were  there.  Charlie 
came  forward. 

"Ge'  lup!  Ge'  lup!"  he  said.  "Junk 
all  smash !  Kai-gingh  come  ashore.  I 
tink  him  want  catch  um  schooner." 


183 


IX 

The  Capture  of  Hoang 

"WHAT  smashed  the  junk?  What 
wrecked  her?"  demanded  Moran. 

The  deserting  Chinamen  huddled 
around  Charlie,  drawing  close,  as  if  find 
ing  comfort  in  the  feel  of  each  other's 

o 

elbows. 

"No  can  tell,"  answered  Charlie. 
"Him  shake,  then  lif  up  all  the  same  as 
we.  Bime-by  too  much  lif  up;  him 
smash  all  to .  Four-piecee  China 
men  dlown." 

"Drown!  Did  any  of  them  drown?" 
exclaimed  Moran. 

"Four-piecee  dlown,"  reiterated  Charlie 
calmly.  "One,  thlee,  five,  nine,  come 
asho'.  Him  other  no  come." 

"  Where  are  the  ones  that  came  ashore?" 
asked  Wilbur. 

184 


The   Capture  of  Hoang 

Charlie  waved  a  hand  back  into  the 
night.  "Him  make  um  camp  topside 
ole  house." 

"That  old  whaling- camp,"  prompted 
Moran.  Then  to  Wilbur :  "  You  remem 
ber — about  a  hundred  yards  north  the 
creek?" 

Wilbur,  Moran,  and  Charlie  had  drawn 
off  a  little  from  the  Bertha  Millner's 
crew.  The  latter  squatted  in  a  line  along 
the  shore  —  silent,  reserved,  looking 
vaguely  seaward  through  the  night. 
Moran  spoke  again,  her  scowl  thickening : 

"What  makes  you  think  the  beach 
combers  want  our  schooner?" 

"  Him  catch  um  schooner  sure !  Him 
want  um  boat  to  go  home.  No  can  get." 

"Let's  put  off  to-night — right  away," 
said  Wilbur. 

"Low  tide,"  answered  Moran;  "and 
besides — Charlie,  did  you  see  them  close  ? 
Were  you  near  them  ?" 

"No  go  muchee  close." 

"Did  they  have  something  with  them, 
185 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

reeved  up  in  a  hammock — something  that 
smelled  sweet?" 

"Like  a  joss-stick,  for  instance?" 

"No  savvy;  no  can  tell.  Him  try 
catch  um  schooner  sure.  Him  velly  bad 
China  boy.  See  Yup  China  boy,  velly 
bad.  I  b'long  Sam  Yup.  Savvy?" 

"Ah!  the  tongs?" 

"Yass.  I  Sam  Yup.  Him,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  Bertha's  crew,  "  Sam  Yup. 
All  we  Sam  Yup;  nisi  him,"  and  he 
waved  a  hand  toward  the  beachcombers' 
camp;  "him  See  Yup.  Savvy?" 

"It's  a  tong  row,"  said  Wilbur. 
"  They're  blood  enemies,  the  See  Yups  and 
Sam  Yups." 

Moran  fell  thoughtful,  digging  her 
boot-heel  into  the  sand,  her  thumbs 
hooked  into  her  belt,  her  forehead  gath 
ered  into  a  heavy  frown.  There  was  a 
silence. 

"One  thing,"  she  said,  at  last;  "we 
can't  give  up  the  schooner.  They  would 
take  our  stores  as  well,  and  then  where 
186 


The  Capture  of  Hoang 

are  we?  Marooned,  by  Jove!  How  far 
do  you  suppose  we  are  from  the  nearest 
town?  Three  hundred  miles  wouldn't  be 
a  bad  guess,  and  they've  got  the  loot — 
our  ambergris — I'll  swear  to  that.  They 
didn't  leave  that  aboard  when  the  junk 
sank." 

"Look  here,  Charlie,"  she  said,  turning 
to  the  Chinaman.  "  If  the  beachcombers 
take  the  schooner — the  Bertha  Millner — 
from  us,  we'll  be  left  to  starve  on  this 
beach." 

"I  tink  um  yars." 

"  How  are  we  going  to  get  home  ?  Are 
you  going  to  let  them  do  it?  Are  you 
going  to  let  them  have  our  schooner." 

"  I  tink  no  can  have. " 

"Look  here,"  she  went  on,  with  sudden 
energy.  "  There  are  only  nine  of  them 
now,  to  our  eight.  We're  about  even. 
We  can  fight  those  swine.  I  know  we 
can.  If  we  jumped  their  camp  and 
rushed  them  hard,  believe  me,  we  could 
run  them  into  the  sea.  Mate,"  she  cried, 
187 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

suddenly  facing  Wilbur,  "  are  you  game  ? 
Have  you  got  blood  in  you?  Those 
beachcombers  are  going  to  attack  us  to 
morrow,  before  high  tide — that's  flat. 
There's  going  to  be  a  fight  anyway.  We 
can't  let  them  have  the  schooner.  It's 
starvation  for  us  if  we  do. 

"They  mean  to  make  a  dash  for  the 
Bertha,  and  we've  got  to  fight  them  off. 
If  there's  any  attacking  to  be  done  I  pro 
pose  to  do  it!  I  propose  we  jump  their 
camp  before  it  gets  light — now — to-night 
—right  away — rim  in  on  them  there,  take 
them  by  surprise,  do  for  one  or  two  of 
them  if  we  have  to,  and  get  that  amber 
gris.  Then  cut  back  to  the  schooner,  up 
our  sails,  and  wait  for  the  tide  to  float  us 
off.  We  can  do  it — I  know  we  can. 
Mate,  will  you  back  me  up?" 

"Back  you  up?  You  bet  I'll  back  you 
up,  Moran.  But —  Wilbur  hesitated. 

"We  could  fight  them  so  much  more  to 
advantage  from  the  deck  of  the  schooner. 
Why  not  wait  for  them  aboard?  We 
188 


The  Capture  of  Hoang 

could  have  our  sails  up,  anyhow,  and  we 
could  keep  the  beachcombers  off  till  the 
tide  rose  high  enough  to  drive  them  back. 
Why  not  do  that?" 

"I  tink  bes'  wait  topside  boat,"  as 
sented  Charlie. 

"Yes;  why  not,  Moran?" 

"Because,"  shouted  the  girl,  "they've 
got  our  loot.  I  don't  propose  to  be 
plundered  of  $150,000  if  I  can  help  it." 

"Wassa  dat?"  demanded  Charlie. 
"Hunder  fiftee  tlousand  you  hab  got?" 

"I  did  have  it — we  had  it,  the  mate 
and  I.  We  triced  a  sperm  whale  for  the 
beachcombers,  and  when  they  thought 
they  had  everything  out  of  him  we  found 
a  lump  of  ambergris  in  him  that  will 
weigh  close  to  two  hundred  pounds.  >,' 
Now  look  here,  Charlie.  The  beach 
combers  have  got  the  stuff.  It's  mine — 
I'm  going  to  have  it  back.  Here's  the 
lay.  Your  men  can  fight — you  can  fight 
yourself.  We'll  make  it  a  business  prop 
osition.  Help  me  to  get  that  ambergris, 
189 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

and  if  we  get  it  I'll  give  each  one  of  the 
men  $1,000,  and  I'll  give  you  $1,500. 
You  can  take  that  up  and  be  independent 
rich  the  rest  of  your  life.  You  can  chuck 
it  and  rot  on  this  beach,  for  it's  fight  or 
lose  the  schooner ;  you  know  that  as  well 
as  I  do.  If  you've  got  to  fight  anyhow, 
why  not  fight  where  it's  going  to  pay  the 
most?" 

Charlie  hesitated,  pursing  his  lips. 

"How  about  this,  Moran?"  Wilbur 
broke  forth  now,  unheard  by  Charlie. 
"I've  just  been  thinking;  have  we  got  a 
right  to  this  ambergris,  after  all?  The 
beachcombers  found  the  whale.  It  was 
theirs.  How  have  we  the  right  to  take 
the  ambergris  away  from  them  any  more 
than  the  sperm  and  the  oil  and  the  bone? 
It's  theirs,  if  you  come  to  that.  I  don't 
know  as  we've  the  right  to  it." 

"Darn  you!"  shouted  Moran  in  a  blaze 

of   fury,  "right  to  it,  right  to  it!     If  I 

haven't  who  has?    Who  found  it?    Those 

dirty  monkeys  might  have   stood   some 

190 


The  Capture  of  Hoang 

show  to  a  claim  if  they'd  held  to  the  one- 
third  bargain,  and  offered  to  divy  with 
us  when  they  got  me  where  I  couldn't 
help  myself.  I  don't  say  I'd  give  in  now 
if  they  had — give  in  to  let  'em  walk  off 
with  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  that  I've 
got  as  good  a  claim  to  as  they  have !  But 
they've  saved  me  the  trouble  of  arguing 
the  question.  They've  taken  it  all,  all ! 
and  there's  no  bargain  in  the  game  at  all 
now.  Now  the  stuff  belongs  to  the 
strongest  of  us,  and  I'm  glad  of  it.  They 
thought  they  were  the  strongest  and  now 
they're  going  to  find  out.  We're  dumped 
down  here  on  this  God-forsaken  sand,  and 
there's  no  law  and  no  policemen.  The 
strongest  of  us  are  going  to  live  and  the 
weakest  are  going  to  die.  I'm  going  to 
live  and  I'm  going  to  have  my  loot  too, 
and  I'm  not  going  to  split  fine  hairs  with 
these  robbers  at  this  time  of  day.  I'm 
going  to  have  it  all,  and  that's  the  law 
you're  under  in  this  case,  my  righteous 
friend  !" 

191 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

She  turned  her  back  upon  him,  spin 
ning  around  upon  her  heel,  and  Wilbur 
felt  ashamed  of  himself  and  proud  of  her. 

"I  go  talkee-talk  to  China  boy,"  said 
Charlie,  coming  up. 

For  about  five  minutes  the  Chinamen 
conferred  together,  squatting  in  a  circle 
on  the  beach.  Moran  paced  up  and  down 
by  the  stranded  dory.  Wilbur  leaned 
against  the  bleached  whale-skull,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets.  Once  he  looked  at 
his  watch.  It  was  nearly  one  o'clock. 

"All  light,"  said  Charlie,  coming  out 
from  the  group  at  last;  "him  fight 
plenty." 

"Now,"  exclaimed  Moran,  "we've  no 
time  to  waste.  What  arms  have  we  got?" 

"We've  the  cutting-in  spades,"  said 
Wilbur;  "there's  five  of  them.  They're 
nearly  ten  feet  long  ano?  the  blades  are  as 
sharp  as  razors ;  you  couldn't  want  better 
pikes." 

"That's  an  idea,"  returned  Moran,  evi 
dently  willing  to  forget  her  outburst  of  a 
192 


The   Capture  of  Hoang 

moment  before,  perhaps  already  sorry  for 
it.  The  party  took  stock  of  their  weap 
ons,  and  five  huge  cutting-in  spades,  a 
heavy  knife  from  the  galley,  and  a  revol 
ver  of  doubtful  effectiveness  were  divided 
among  them.  The  crew  took  the  spades, 
Charlie  the  knife,  and  Wilbur  the  revol 
ver.  Moran  had  her  own  knife,  a  haft- 
less  dirk,  such  as  is  affected  by  all  Nor 
wegians,  whether  landsmen  or  sailors. 
They  were  examining  this  armament  and 
Moran  was  suggesting  a  plan  of  attack, 
when  Hoang,  the  leader  of  the  beach 
combers,  and  one  other  Chinaman,  ap 
peared  some  little  distance  below  them 
on  the  beach.  The  moon  was  low  and 
there  was  no  great  light,  but  the  two 
beachcombers  caught  the  flash  of  the  points 
of  the  spades.  They  halted  and  glanced 
narrowly  and  suspiciously  at  the  group. 

"  Beasts !"  muttered  Moran.  "  They  are 
up  to  the  game — there's  no  surprising 
them  now.  Talk  to  him  Charlie;  see 
what  he  wants." 

13  193 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

Moran,  Wilbur,  and  Charlie  came  part 
of  the  way  toward  Hoang  and  his  fellow, 
and  paused  some  fifteen  feet  distant,  and 
a  long  colloquy  ensued.  It  soon  became 
evident,  however,  that  in  reality  Hoang 
wanted  nothing  of  them,  though  with 
great  earnestness  he  asserted  his  willing 
ness  to  charter  the  Bertha  Millner  back 
to  San  Francisco. 

"That's  not  his  game  at  all,"  said 
Moran  -to  Wilbur,  in  a  low  tone,  her  eyes 
never  leaving  those  of  the  beachcomber. 
"He's  pretty  sure  he  could  seize  the 
Bertha  and  never  pay  us  a  stiver.  They've 
come  down  to  spy  on  us,  and  they're 
doing  it,  too.  There's  no  good  trying  to 
rush  their  camp  now.  They'll  go  back 
and  tell  the  crew  that  we  know  their  lay." 

It  was  still  very  dark.  Near  the  hulk 
of  the  beached  Bertha  Millner  were 
grouped  her  crew,  each  armed  with  a  long 
and  lance-like  cutting-in  spade,  watching 
and  listening  to  the  conference  of  the 
chiefs.  The  moon,  almost  down,  had 
194 


The   Capture  of  Hoang 

flushed  blood-red,  violently  streaking  the 
gray,  smooth  surface  of  the  bay  with  her 
reflection.  The  tide  was  far  out,  rippling 
quietly  along  the  reaches  of  wet  sand. 
In  the  pauses  of  the  conference  the  vast, 
muffling  silence  shut  down  with  the  ab 
ruptness  of  a  valve  suddenly  closed. 

How  it  happened,  just  who  made  the 
first  move,  in  precisely  what  manner  the 
action  had  been  planned,  or  what  led  up 
to  it,  Wilbur  could  not  afterward  satisfac 
torily  explain.  There  was  a  rush  forward 
-he  remembered  that  much — a  dull 
thudding  of  feet  over  the  resounding 
beach  surface,  a  moment's  writhing  strug 
gle  with  a  half -naked  brown  figure  that 
used  knife  and  nail  and  tooth,  and  then 
the  muffling  silence  again,  broken  only 
by  the  sound  of  their  own  panting.  In 
that  whirl  of  swift  action  Wilbur  could 
reconstruct  but  two  brief  pictures :  the 
Chinaman,  Hoang's  companion,  flying 
like  one  possessed  along  the  shore; 
Hoang  himself  flung  headlong  into  the 
195 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

arms  of  the  Bertha's  coolies,  and  Moran, 
her  eyes  blazing,  her  thick  braids  flying, 
brandishing  her  fist  as  she  shouted  at  the 
top  of  her  deep  voice,  "  We've  gof-  you, 
anyhow !" 

They  had  taken  Hoang  prisoner, 
whether  by  treachery  or  not  Wilbur  did 
not  exactly  know;  and,  even  if  unfair 
means  had  been  used,  he  could  not  repress 
a  feeling  of  delight  and  satisfaction,  as  he 
told  himself  that  in  the  very  beginning 
of  the  fight  that  was  to  follow  he  and  his 
mates  had  gained  the  first  advantage. 

As  the  action  of  that  night's  events 
became  more  and  more  accelerated,  Wil 
bur  could  not  but  notice  the  change  in 
Moran.  It  was  very  evident  that  the  old 
Norse  fighting-blood  of  her  was  all  astir; 
brutal,  merciless,  savage  beyond  all  con 
trol.  A  sort  of  obsession  seized  upon  her 
at  the  near  approach  of  battle,  a  frenzy  of 
action  that  was  checked  by  nothing — 
that  was  insensible  to  all  restraint.  At 
times  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  make 
196 


The  Capture  of  Hoang 

her  hear  him,  or  when  she  heard  to  un 
derstand  what  he  was  saying.  Her  vi 
sion  contracted.  It  was  evident  that  she 
could  not  see  distinctly.  Wilbur  could 
no  longer  conceive  of  her  as  a  woman  of 
the  days  of  civilization.  She  was  lapsing 
back  to  the  eighth  century  again — to  the 
Vikings,  the  sea-wolves,  the  berserkers. 

"Now  you're  going  to  talk,"  she  cried 
to  Hoang,  as  the  bound  Chinaman  sat 
upon  the  beach,  leaning  his  hack  against 
the  great  skull.  "Charlie,  ask  him  if 
they  saved  the  ambergris  when  the  junk 
went  down  —  if  they've  got  it  now?" 
Charlie  put  the  question  in  Chinese,  but 
the  beachcomber  only  twinkled  his  vi 
cious  eyes  upon  them  and  held  his  peace. 
With  the  full  sweep  of  her  arm,  her 
fist  clenched  till  the  knuckles  whitened, 
Moran  struck  him  in  the  face. 

"Now  will  you  talk?"  she  cried. 
Hoang  wiped  the  blood  from  his  face 
upon  his  shoulder  and  set  his  jaws.  He 
did  not  answer. 

197 


Moran   of  the  Lady  Letty 

"You  will  talk  before  I'm  done  with 
you,  my  friend ;  don't  get  any  wrong  no 
tions  in  your  head  about  that,"  Moran 
continued,  her  teeth  clenched.  "  Charlie," 
she  added,  "is  there  a  file  aboard  the 
schooner?" 

"I  tink  um  yass,  boss  hab  got  file." 

"In  the  tool-chest,  isn't  it?"  Charlie 
nodded,  and  Moran  ordered  it  to  be 
fetched. 

"If  we're  to  fight  that  crowd,"  she 
said,  speaking  to  herself  and  in  a  rapid 
voice,  thick  from  excitement  and  passion, 
"  we've  got  to  know  where  they've  hid 
the  loot,  and  what  weapons  they've  got. 
If  they  have  a  rifle  or  a  shotgun  with 
them,  it's  going  to  make  a  big  difference 
for  us.  The  other  fellow  escaped  and  has 
gone  back  to  warn  the  rest.  It's  fight 
now,  and  no  mistake." 

The  Chinaman  who  had  been  sent 
aboard  the  schooner  returned,  carrying  a 
long,  rather  coarse-grained  file.  Moran 
took  it  from  him. 

198 


The  Capture  of  Hoang 

"Now,"  she  said,  standing  in  front  of 
Hoang,  "  I'll  give  you  one  more  chance. 
Answer  me.  Did  you  bring  off  the  am 
bergris,  you  beast,  when  your  junk  sank? 
Where  is  it  now?  How  many  men  have 
you?  What  arms  have  you  got?  Have 
your  men  got  a  rifle !  Charlie,  put  that 
all  to  him  in  your  lingo,  so  as  to  make 
sure  that  he  understands.  Tell  him  if  he 
don't  talk  I'm  going  to  make  him  very 
sick." 

Charlie  put  the  questions  in  Chinese, 
pausing  after  each  one.  Hoang  held  his 
peace. 

"I  gave  you  fair  warning,"  shouted 
Moran  angrily,  pointing  at  him  with  the 
file.  "Will  you  answer?" 

"  Him  no  tell  nuttin,"  observed  Charlie. 

"Fetch  a  cord  here,"  commanded 
Moran.  The  cord  was  brought,  and  de 
spite  Hoang's  struggles  and  writhings  the 
file  was  thrust  end-ways  into  his  mouth 
and  his  jaws  bound  tightly  together  upon 
it  by  means  of  the  cord  passed  over  his 
199 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

head  and  under  his  chin.  Some  four 
inches  of  the  file  protruded  from  his  lips. 
Moran  took  this  end  and  drew  it  out 
between  the  beachcomber's  teeth,  then 
pushed  it  back  slowly. 

The  hideous  rasp  of  the  operation 
turned  Wilbur's  blood  cold  within  him. 
He  looked  away — out  to  sea,  down  the 
beach — anywhere,  so  that  he  might  not 
see  what  was  going  forward.  But  the 
persistent  grind  and  scrape  still  assaulted 
his  ears.  He  turned  about  sharply. 

"  I — I — I'll  go  down  the  beach  here  a 
ways,"  he  said  quickly.  "I  can't  stand 
— I'll  keep  watch  to  see  if  the  beach 
combers  come  up." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  heard  Charlie 
hailing  him. 

"Chin-chin  heap  plenty  now,"  said  he, 
with  a  grin,  as  Wilbur  came  up. 

Hoang  sat  on  the  sand  in  the  midst  of 
the  circle.     The  file  and  coil  of  rope  lay 
on  the  ground  near  by.     The  beachcomb 
er  was  talking  in  a  high-keyed  sing-song, 
200 


The   Capture  of  Hoang 

but  with  a  lisp.  He  told  them  partly  in 
pigeon  English  and  partly  in  Cantonese, 
which  Charlie  translated,  that  their  men 
were  eight  in  number,  and  that  they  had 
intended  to  seize  the  schooner  that  night, 
but  that  probably  his  own  capture  had 
delayed  their  plans.  They  had  no  rifle. 
A  shotgun  had  been  on  board,  but  had 
gone  down  with  the  sinking  of  the  junk. 
The  ambergris  had  been  cut  into  two 
lumps,  and  would  be  found  in  a  couple  of 
old  flour-sacks  in  the  stern  of  the  boat  in 
which  he  and  his  men  had  come  ashore. 
They  were  all  armed  with  their  little 
hatchets.  He  thought  two  of  the  men 
carried  knives  as  well.  There  was 
neither  pistol  nor  revolver  among  them. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Wilbur,  "that 
we've  got  the  long  end." 

"  We  catch  um  boss,  too !"  said  Charlie, 
pointing  to  Hoang. 

"And  we  are  better  armed,"  assented 
Morau.  "We've  got  the  cuttiug-in 
spades. " 

201 


Moran   of  the   Lady   Letty 

"And  the  revolver,  if  it  will  shoot  any 
farther  than  it  will  kick." 

"They'll  give  us  all  the  fight  we  want," 
declared  Moran. 

"Oh,  him  Kai-gingh,  him  fight  all 
same  devil." 

"Give  the  men  brandy,  Charlie,"  com 
manded  Moran.  "  We'll  rush  that  camp 
right  away." 

The  demijohn  of  spirits  was  brought 
down  from  the  Bertha  and  passed 
around,  Wilbur  and  Moran  drinking  from 
the  tin  cup,  the  coolies  from  the  bottle. 
Hoang  was  fettered  and  locked  in  the 
Bertha's  cabin. 

"Now,  then,  are  we  ready?"  cried 
Moran. 

"I  tink  all  light,"  answered  Charlie. 

The  party  set  off  down  the  beach. 
The  moon  had  long  since  gone  down,  and 
the  dawn  was  whitening  over  the  eastern 
horizon.  Landward,  ragged  blankets  of 
morning  mist  lay  close  in  the  hollows 
here  and  there.  It  was  profoundly  still. 
202 


The   Capture  of  Hoang 

The  stars  were  still  out.  The  surface  of 
Magdalena  Bay  was  smooth  as  a  sheet  of 
gray  silk. 

Twenty  minutes  passed,  half  an  hour, 
an  hour.  The  party  tramped  steadily 
forward,  Moran,  Wilbur,  and  Charlie  lead 
ing,  the  coolies  close  behind  carrying  the 
ciittmg-in  spades  over  their  shoulders. 
Slowly  and  in  silence  they  made  the  half 
circuit  of  the  bay.  The  Bertha  Millner 
was  far  behind  them  by  now,  a  vague 
gray  mass  in  the  early  morning  light. 

"Did  you  ever  fight  before?"  Moran 
suddenly  demanded  of  Charlie. 

"  One  time  I  fight  plenty  much  in  San 
Flancisco  in  Washington  stleet.  Fight- 
urn  See  Yups." 

Another  half-hour  passed.  At  times 
when  they  halted  they  began  to  hear  the 
faint  murmur  of  the  creek,  just  beyond 
which  was  the  broken  and  crumbling 
shanty,  relic  of  an  old  Portuguese  whal 
ing-camp,  where  the  beachcombers  were 
camped.  At  Charlie's  suggestion  the 
203 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

party  made  a  circuit,  describing  a  half 
moon,  to  landward,  so  as  to  come  out 
upon  the  enemy  sheltered  by  the  sand- 
dunes.  Twenty  minutes  later  they 
crossed  the  creek  about  four  hundred 
yards  from  the  shore.  Here  they  spread 
out  into  a  long  line,  and,  keeping  an  in 
terval  of  about  fifteen  feet  between  each 
of  them,  moved  cautiously  forward.  The 
unevenness  of  the  sand -breaks  hid  the 
shore  from  view,  but  Moran,  Wilbur,  and 
Charlie  knew  that  by  keeping  the  creek 
upon  their  left  they  would  come  out  di 
rectly  upon  the  house. 

A  few  moments  later  Charlie  held  up 
his  hand,  and  the  men  halted.  The  noise 
of  the  creek  chattering  into  the  tidewater 
of  the  bay  was  plainly  audible  just  be 
yond  ;  a  ridge  of  sand,  covered  thinly  with 
sage-brush,  and  a  faint  column  of  smoke 
rose  into  the  air  over  the  ridge  itself. 
They  were  close  in.  The  coolies  were 
halted,  and,  dropping  upon  their  hands 
and  knees,  the  three  leaders  crawled  to 
204 


The   Capture  of  Hoang 

the  top  of  the  break.  Sheltered  by  a 
couple  of  sage-bushes  and  lying  flat  to  the 
ground,  Wilbur  looked  over  and  down 
upon  the  beach.  The  first  object  he 
made  out  was  a  crazy,  roofless  house, 
built  of  driftwood,  the  chinks  plastered 
with  'dobe  mud,  the  door  fallen  in. 

Beyond,  on  the  beach,  was  a  flat-bot 
tomed  dingy,  unpainted  and  foul  with 
dirt.  But  all  around  the  house  the  sand 
had  been  scooped  and  piled  to  form  a  low 
barricade,  and  behind  this  barricade  Wil 
bur  saw  the  beachcombers.  There  were 
eight  of  them.  They  were  alert  and 
ready,  their  hatchets  in  their  hands.  The 
gaze  of  each  of  them  was  fixed  directly 
upon  the  sand-break  which  sheltered  the 
Bertha  Millner's  officers  and  crew.  They 
seemed  to  Wilbur  to  look  him  straight 
in  the  eye.  They  neither  moved  norx 
spoke.  The  silence  and  absolute  lack  of 
motion  on  the  part  of  these  small, 
half -naked  Chinamen,  with  their  ape-like 
muzzles  and  twinkling  eyes,  was  ominous. 
205 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

There  could  be  no  longer  any  doubt 
that  the  beachcombers  had  known  of 
their  enemies'  movements  and  were  per 
fectly  aware  of  their  presence  behind  the 
sand-break.  Moran  rose  to  her  feet,  and 
Wilbur  and  Charlie  followed  her  ex 
ample. 

"There's  no  use  hiding,"  she  said; 
"  they  know  we're  here. " 

Charlie  called  up  the  crew.  The  two 
parties  were  ranged  face  to  face.  Over 
the  eastern  rim  of  the  Pacific  the  blue 
whiteness  of  the  early  dawn  was  turning 
to  a  dull,  roseate  gold  at  the  core  of  the 
sunrise.  The  headlands  of  Magdalena 
Bay  stood  black  against  the  pale  glow  ; 
overhead,  the  greater  stars  still  shone. 
The  monotonous,  faint  ripple  of  the  creek 
was  the  only  sound.  It  was  about  3 :30 
o'clock. 


206 


X 

A  Battle 

WILBUR  had  imagined  that  the  fight, 
would  be  hardly  more  than  a  wild  rush 
down  the  slope  of  the  beach,  a  dash  over 
the  beachcombers'  breastworks  of  sand, 
and  a  brief  hand-to-hand  scrimmage 
around  the  old  cabin.  In  all  accounts  he 
had  ever  read  of  such  affairs,  and  in  all 
ideas  he  had  entertained  on  the  subject, 
this  had  always  been  the  case.  The  two 
bodies  had  shocked  together  like  a  college 
rush,  there  had  been  five  minutes'  play  of 
knife  and  club  and  gun,  a  confused  whirl 
of  dust  and  smoke,  and  all  was  over  be 
fore  one  had  time  either  to  think  or  be 
afraid.  But  nothing  of  the  kind  hap 
pened  that  morning. 

The  Bertha  Millner's  crew,  in  a  long 
line,  Moran  at  one  end,  Wilbur  at  the 
207 


Moran   of  the  Lady  Letty 

other,  and  Charlie  in  the  centre,  came  on 
toward  the  beachcombers,  step  by  step. 
There  was  little  outcry.  Each  contestant 
singled  out  his  enemy,  and  made  slowly 
for  him  with  eyes  fixed  and  weapon 
ready,  regardless  of  the  movements  of  his 
mates. 

"See  any  rifles  among  them,  Charlie?" 
shouted  Moran,  suddenly  breaking  the 
silence. 

"No,  I  tink  no  hab  got,"  answered 
Charlie. 

Wilbur  took  another  step  forward  and 
cocked  his  revolver.  One  of  the  beach 
combers  shouted  out  something  in  angry 
vernacular,  and  Charlie  instantly  respond 
ed.  All  this  time  the  line  had  been 
slowly  advancing  upon  the  enemy,  and 
Wilbur  began  to  wonder  how  long  that 
heartbreaking  suspense  was  to  continue. 
This  was  not  at  all  what  he  had  im 
agined.  Already  he  was  within  twenty 
feet  of  his  man,  could  see  the  evil  glint 
of  his  slant,  small  eye,  and  the  shine  of 


A  Battle 

his  yellow  body,  naked  to  the  belt.  Still 
foot  by  foot  the  forward  movement  con 
tinued.  The  Chinese  on  either  side  had 
begun  exchanging  insults ;  the  still,  hot 
air  of  the  tropic  dawn  was  vibrant  with 
the  Cantonese  monosyllables  tossed  back 
and  forth  like  tennis-balls  over  the  low 
sand  rampart.  The  thing  was  degenerat 
ing  into  a  farce — the  Bertha's  Chinamen 
would  jiptnght. 

Back  there,  under  the  shelter  of  the 
schooner,  it  was  all  very  well  to  talk,  and 
they  had  been  very  brav&  when  they  had 
all  flung  themselves  upon  Hoang.  Here, 
face  to  face  with  the  enemy,  the  sun 
striking  off  heliograph  flashes  from  their 
knives  and  spades,  it  was  a  vastly  dif 
ferent  matter.  The  thing,  to  Wilbur's 
mind,  should  have  been  done  suddenly  if 
it  was  to  be  done  at  all.  The  best  course 
now  was  to  return  to  camp  and  try  some 
other  plan.  Charlie  shouted  a  direction 
to  him  in  pigeon  English  that  he  did  not 
understand,  but  he  answered  all  right, 
14  209 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

and  moved  forward  another  step  so  as  to 
be  in  line  with  the  coolie  at  his  left. 

The  liquor  that  he  had  drunk  before 
starting  began  suddenly  to  affect  him,  yet 
he  knew  that  his  head  was  yet  clear. 
He  could  not  bring  himself  to  run  away 
before  them  all,  but  he  would  have  given 
much  to  have  discovered  a  good  reason 
for  postponing  the  fight — if  fight  there 
was  to  be. 

He  remembered  the  cocked  revolver  in 
his  hand,  and,  suddenly  raising  it,  fired 
point-blank  at  his  man,  not  fifteen  feet 
away.  The  hammer  snapped  on  the 
nipple,  but  the  cartridge  did  not  explode. 
Wilbur  turned  to  the  Chinaman  next  him 
in  line,  exclaiming  excitedly : 

"Here,  say,  have  you  got  a  knife- 
something  I  can  fight  with?  This  gun's 
no  good." 

There  was  a  shout  from  Moran : 
"Look  out,  here  they  come!" 
Two    of   the  beachcombers    suddenly 
sprang  over  the  sand  breastworks  and  ran 
210 


A  Battle 

toward  Charlie,  their  knives  held  low  in 
front  of  them,  ready  to  rip. 

*  Shoot !  shoot !  shoot !"  shouted  Moran 
rapidly. 

Wilbur's  revolver  was  a  self-cocker. 
He  raised  it  again,  drawing  hard  on  the 
trigger  as  he  did  so.  It  roared  and  leaped 
in  his  hand,  and  a  whiff  of  burnt  powder 
came  to  his  nostrils.  Then  Wilbur  was 
astonished  to  hear  himself  shout  at  the 
top  of  his  voice : 

"Come  on  now,  get  into  them — get 
into  them  now,  everybody!" 

The  Bertha's  Chinamen  were  all  run 
ning  forward,  three  of  them  well  in  ad 
vance  of  the  others.  In  the  rear  Charlie 
was  at  grapples  with  a  beachcomber  who 
fought  with  a  knife  in  each  hand,  and  Wil 
bur  had  a  sudden  glimpse  of  another  sitting 
on  the  sand  with  his  hand  to  his  mouth, 
the  blood  spurting  between  his  fingers. 

Wilbur  suddenly  realized  that  he  held 
a  knife,  and  that  he  was  directly  abreast 

the  sand  rampart.    How  he  got  the  knife 
211 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

he  could  not  tell,  though  he  afterward 
distinctly  remembered  throwing  away  his 
revolver,  loaded  as  it  was.  He  had 
leaped  the  breastworks,  he  knew  that, 
and  between  him  and  the  vast  bright  blur 
of  the  ocean  lie  saw  one  of  the  beach 
combers  backing  away  and  watching  him 
intently,  his  hatchet  in  his  hand.  Wilbur 
had  only  time  to  think  that  he  himself 
would  no  doubt  be  killed  within  the  next 
few  moments,  when  this  latter  halted 
abruptly,  took  a  step  forward,  and,  instead 
of  striking  downward,  as  Wilbur  had  an 
ticipated,  dropped  upon  his  knee  and 
struck  with  all  his  might  at  the  calf  of 
Wilbur's  leg.  It  was  only  the  thickness 
of  his  boots  that  saved  Wilbur  from  be 
ing  hamstrung  where  he  stood.  As  it 
was,  he  felt  the  blade  bite  almost  to  the 
bone,  and  heard  the  blood  squelch  in  the 
sole  of  his  boot,  as  he  staggered  for  the 
moment,  almost  tripping  over  the  man  in 
front  of  him. 

The  Chinaman  sprang  to  his  feet  again, 
212 


A  Battle 

but  Wilbur  was  at  him  in  an  instant, 
feeling  instinctively  that  his  chance  was 
to  close  with  his  man,  and  so  bring  his 
own  superior  weight  and  strength  to  bear. 
Again  and  again  he  tried  to  run  in  and 
grip  the  slim  yellow  body,  but  the  other 
dodged  and  backed  away,  as  hard  to  hold 
as  any  fish.  All  around  and  back  of  him 
now  Wilbur  heard  the  hideous  sound  of 
stamping  and  struggling,  and  the  noise  of 
hoarse,  quick  shouts  and  the  rebound  of 
bodies  falling  and  rolling  upon  the  hard, 
smooth  beach.  The  thing  had  not  been 
a  farce,  after  all.  This  was  fighting  at 
last,  and  there  within  arm's  length  were 
men  grappling  and  gripping  and  hitting 
one  another,  each  honestly  striving  to 
kill  his  fellow — Chinamen  all,  fighting  in 
barbarous  Oriental  fashion  with  nails  and 
teeth  when  the  knife  or  hatchet  failed. 
What  did  he,  clubman  and  collegeman, 
in  that  hideous  trouble  that  wrought  it 
self  out  there  on  that  heat-stricken  tropic 
beach  under  that  morning's  sun? 
213 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

Suddenly  there  was  a  flash  of  red 
flame,  and  a  billow  of  thick,  yellow 
smoke  filled  all  the  air.  The  cabin  was 
afire.  The  hatchet-man  with  whom  Wil 
bur  was  fighting  had  been  backing  in 
this  direction.  He  was  close  in  when 
the  fire  began  to  leap  from  the  one  win 
dow;  now  he  could  go  no  farther.  He 
turned  to  run  sideways  between  his  en 
emy  and  the  burning  cabin.  Wilbur 
thrust  his  foot  sharply  forward;  the 
beachcomber  tripped,  staggered,  and  be 
fore  he  had  reached  the  ground  Wilbur 
had  driven  home  the  knife. 

Then  suddenly,  at  the  sight  of  his 
smitten  enemy  rolling  on  the  ground  at 
his  feet,  the  primitive  man,  the  half- 
brute  of  the  stone  age,  leaped  to  life  in 
Wilbur's  breast — he  felt  his  muscles 
thrilling  with  a  strength  they  had  not 
known  before.  His  nerves,  stretched 
tense  as  harp-strings,  were  vibrating  to  a 
new  tune.  His  blood  spun  through  his 

veins  till  his  ears  roared  with  the  rush  of 
214 


A  Battle 

it.  Never  had  he  conceived  of  such 
savage  exultation  as  that  which  mastered 
him  at  that  instant.  The  knowledge 
that  he  could  kill  filled  him  with  a  sense 
of  power  that  was  veritably  royal.  He 
felt  physically  larger.  It  was  the  joy  of 
battle,  the  horrid  exhilaration  of  killing, 
the  animal  of  the  race,  the  human  brute 
suddenly  aroused  and  dominating  every 
instinct  and  tradition  of  centuries  of  civ 
ilization.  The  fight  still  was  going  for 
ward. 

Wilbur  could  hear  the  sounds  of  it, 
though  from  where  he  stood  all  sight  was 
shut  off  by  the  smoke  of  the  burning 
house.  As  he  turned  about,  knife  in 
hand,  debating  what  next  he  should  do, 
a  figure  burst  down  upon  him,  shadowy 
and  distorted  through  the  haze. 

It  was  Moran,  but  Moran  as  Wilbur 
had  never  seen  her  before.  Her  eyes 
were  blazing  under  her  thick  frown  like 
fire  under  a  bush.  Her  arms  were  bared 

to  the  elbow,  her  heavy  ropes  of  hair  fly- 

215 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

ing  and  coiling  from  her  in  all  direc 
tions,  while  with  a  voice  hoarse  from 
shouting  she  sang,  or  rather  chanted,  in 
her  long-forgotten  Norse  tongue,  frag 
ments  of  old  sagas,  words,  and  sentences, 
meaningless  even  to  herself.  The  fury 
of  battle  had  exalted  her  to  a  sort  of 
frenzy.  She  was  beside  herself  with  ex 
citement.  Once  more  she  had  lapsed 
back  to  the  Vikings  and  sea-rovers  of  the 
tenth  century — she  was  Brunhilde  again, 
a  shield-maiden,  a  Valkyrie,  a  bersirker 
and  the  daughter  of  bersirkers,  and  like 
them  she  fought  in  a  veritable  frenzy, 
seeing  nothing,  hearing  nothing,  every 
sense  exalted,  every  force  doubled,  insen 
sible  to  pain,  deaf  to  all  reason. 

Her  dirk  uplifted,  she  rushed  upon 
Wilbur,  never  once  pausing  in  her  chant. 
Wilbur  shouted  a  warning  to  her  as  she 
came  on,  puzzled  beyond  words,  startled 
back  to  a  consciousness  of  himself  again 
by  this  insensate  attack. 

"Moraii!  Moran!"  he  called.     "What 
216 


A  Battle 

is  it — you're  wrong!  It's  I.  It's  Wil 
bur — your  mate,  can't  you  see?" 

Moran  could  not  see — blind  to  friend 
or  foe,  as  she  was  deaf  to  reason,  she 
struck  at  him  with  all  the  strength  of 
her  arm.  But  there  was  no  skill  in  her 
fighting  now.  Wilbur  dropped  his  own 
knife  and  gripped  her  right  wrist.  She 
closed  with  him  upon  the  instant,  clutch 
ing  at  his  throat  with  her  one  free  hand ; 
and  as  he  felt  her  strength — doubled  and 
tripled  in  the  fury  of  her  madness — Wil 
bur  knew  that,  however  easily  he  had 
overcome  his  enemy  of  a  moment  before, 
he  was  now  fighting  for  his  very  life. 

At  first,  Wilbur  merely  struggled  to 
keep  her  from  him — to  prevent  her  using 
her  dirk.  He  tried  not  to  hurt  her.  But 
what  with  the  spirits  he  had  drunk  be 
fore  the  attack,  what  with  the  excitement 
of  the  attack  itself  and  the  sudden  un 
leashing  of  the  brute  in  him  an  instant 
before,  the  whole  affair  grew  dim  and 
hazy  in  his  mind.  He  ceased  to  see 
217 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

things  in  their  proportion.  His  new 
found  strength  gloried  in  matching  itself 
with  another  strength  that  was  its  equal. 
He  fought  with  Moran — not  as  he  would 
fight  with  either  woman  or  man,  or  with 
anything  human,  for  the  matter  of  that. 
He  fought  with  her  as  against  some  im 
personal  force  that  it  was  incumbent  upon 
him  to  conquer — that  it  was  imperative 
he  should  conquer  if  he  wished  to  live. 
When  she  struck,  he  struck  blow  for 
blow,  force  for  force,  his  strength  against 
hers,  glorying  in  that  strange  contest, 
though  he  never  once  forgot  that  this  last 
enemy  was  the  girl  he  loved.  It  was  not 
Moran  whom  he  fought ;  it  was  her  force, 
her  determination,  her  will,  her  splendid 
independence,  that  he  set  himself  to  con 
quer. 

Already  she  had  dropped  or  flung  away 
the  dirk,  and  their  battle  had  become  an 
issue  of  sheer  physical  strength  between 
them.  It  was  a  question  now  as  to  who 

should  master  the  other.     Twice  she  had 
218 


A  Battle 

fought  Wilbur  to  his  knees,  the  heel  of 
her  hand  upon  his  face,  his  head  thrust 
back  between  his  shoulders,  and  twice  he 
had  wrenched  away,  rising  to  his  feet 
again,  panting,  bleeding  even,  but  with 
his  teeth  set  and  all  his  resolution  at  the 
sticking-point.  Once  he  saw  his  chance, 
and  planted  his  knuckles  squarely  be 
tween  her  eyes  where  her  frown  was 
knotted  hard,  hoping  to  stun  her  and  end 
the  fight  once  and  for  all.  But  the  blow 
did  not  seem  to  affect  her  in  the  least. 
By  this  time  he  saw  that  her  bersirker 
rage  had  worked  itself  clear  as  ferment 
ing  wine  clears  itself,  and  that  she  knew 
now  with  whom  she  was  fighting;  and 
he  seemed  nowT  to  understand  the  incom 
prehensible,  and  to  sympathize  with  her 
joy  in  measuring  her  strength  against 
his;  and  yet  he  knew  that  the  combat 
was  deadly  serious,  and  that  more  than 
life  was  at  stake.  Moran  despised  a 
weakling. 

For  an  instant,  as  they  fell  apart,  she 
219 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

stood  off,  breathing  hard  and  rolling  up 
her  sleeve;  then,  as  she  started  forward 
again,  Wilbur  met  her  half-way,  caught 
her  round  the  neck  and  under  the  arm, 
gripping  her  left  wrist  with  his  right 
hand  behind  her;  then,  exerting  every 
ounce  of  strength  he  yet  retained,  he 
thrust  her  down  and  from  him,  until  at 
length,  using  his  hip  as  a  pivot,  he 
swung  her  off  her  feet,  threw  her  fairly 
on  her  back,  and  held  her  so,  one  knee 
upon  her  chest,  his  hands  closed  vise-like 
on  her  wrists. 

Then  suddenly  Moran  gave  up,  relax 
ing  in  his  grasp  all  in  a  second,  and,  to 
his  great  surprise,  suddenly  smiled. 

"Ho!  mate,"  she  exclaimed;  "that 
was  a  tough  one;  but  I'm  beaten — 
you're  stronger  than  I  thought  for. " 

Wilbur  released  her  and  rose  to  his 
feet. 

"Here,"  she  continued,  "give  me  your 
hand.  I'm  as  weak  as  a  kitten."  As 

Wilbur  helped  her  to  her  feet,  she  put  her 
220 


A   Battle 

hand  to  her  forehead,  where  his  knuckles 
had  left  their  mark,  and  frowned  at  him, 
but  not  ill-naturedly. 

"Next  time  you  do  that,"  she  said, 
"  use  a  rock  or  a  belaying-pin,  or  something 
that  won't  hurt — not  your  fist,  mate." 
She  looked  at  him  admiringly.  "  What  a 
two-fisted,  brawny  dray-horse  it  is!  I 
told  you  I  was  stronger  than  most  men, 
didn't  I?  But  I'm  the  weaker  of  us  two, 
and  that's  a  fact.  You've  beaten,  mate — 
I  admit  it;  you've  conquered  me,  and," 
she  continued,  smiling  again  and  shaking 
him  by  the  shoulder, — "  and,  mate,  do  you 
know,  I  love  you  for  it." 


221 


XI 

A   Change   in   Leaders 

"WELL,"  exclaimed  Wilbur  at  length, 
the  excitement  of  the  fight  returning 
upon  him.  "  We  have  plenty  to  do  yet. 
Come  on,  Moran." 

It  was  no  longer  Moran  who  took  the 
initiative — who  was  the  leader.  The 
brief  fight  upon  the  shore  had  changed 
all  that.  It  was  Wilbur  who  was  now 
the  master,  it  was  Wilbur  who  was  ag 
gressive.  He  had  known  what  it  meant 
to  kill.  He  was  no  longer  afraid  of  any 
thing,  no  longer  hesitating.  He  had  felt 
a  sudden  quadrupling  of  all  his  strength, 
moral  and  physical. 

All  that  was  strong  and  virile  and 
brutal  in  him  seemed  to  harden  and 
stiffen  in  the  moment  after  he  had  seen 

goo 


A  Change   in  Leaders 

the  beachcomber  collapse  limply  on  the 
sand  under  that  last  strong  knife-blow; 
and  a  sense  of  triumph,  of  boundless  self- 
confidence,  leaped  within  him,  so  that  he 
shouted  aloud  in  a  very  excess  of  exhil 
aration;  and  snatching  up  a  heavy  cut- 
ting-in  spade,  that  had  been  dropped  in 
the  fight  near  the  burning  cabin,  tossed  it 
high  into  the  air,  catching  it  again  as  it 
descended,  like  any  exultant  savage. 

"Come  on!"  he  cried  to  Moran; 
"  where  are  the  beachcombers  gone  ?  I'm 
going  to  get  one  more  before  the  show  is 
over. " 

The  two  passed  out  of  the  zone  of 
smoke,  and  reached  the  other  side  of  the 
burning  cabin  just  in  time  to  see  the  last 
of  the  struggle.  The  whole  affair  had 
not  taken  more  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  In  the  end  the  beachcombers  had 
been  beaten.  Four  had  fled  into  the 
waste  of  sand  and  sage  that  lay  back  of 
the  shore,  and  had  not  been  pursued.  A 
fifth  had  been  almost  hamstrung  by  one 
233 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

of  the  Bertha's  coolies,  and  had  given  him 
self  up.  A  sixth,  squealing  and  shriek 
ing  like  a  tiger-cat,  had  been  made  pris 
oner;  and  Wilbur  himself  had  accounted 
for  the  seventh. 

As  Wilbur  and  Moran  came  around 
the  cabin  they  saw  the  Bertha  Millner's 
Chinamen  in  a  group,  not  far  from  the 
water's  edge,  reassembled  after  the  fight — 
panting  and  bloody,  some  of  them  bare 
to  the  belt,  their  weapons  still  in  their 
hands.  Here  and  there  was  a  bandaged 
arm  or  head ;  but  their  number  was  com 
plete — or  no,  was  it  complete  ? 

"  Ought  to  be  one  more,"  said  Wilbur, 
anxiously  hastening  forward. 

As  the  two  came  up  the  coolies  parted, 
and  Wilbur  saw  one  of  them,  his  head 
propped  upon  a  rolled-up  blouse,  lying 
ominously  still  on  the  trampled  sand. 

"It's  Charlie!"  exclaimed  Moran. 

"Where's  he  hurt?"  cried  Wilbur  to 
the  group  of  coolies.  "Jim! — where's 

Jim?     Where's  he  hurt,  Jim?" 
224 


A   Change   in   Leaders 

Jim,  the  only  member  of  the  crew  be 
sides  Charlie  who  could  understand  or 
speak  English,  answered : 

"  Kai-gingh  him  fin'  pistol,  you'  pistol ; 
Charlie  him  fight  plenty ;  bimeby,  when 
he  no  see,  one-piecee  Kai-gingh  he  come 
up  behin',  shoot  um  Charlie  in  side, — 
savvy?" 

"Did  he  kill  him?     Is  he  dead?" 

"  No,  I  tinkum  die  plenty  soon ;  him 
no  savvy  nuttin'  now,  him  all-same  sleep. 
Plenty  soon  bimeby  him  sleep  for  good, 
I  link." 

There  was  little  blood  to  be  seen  when 
Wilbur  gently  unwrapped  the  torn  sleeve 
of  a  blouse  that  had  been  used  as  a  band 
age.  Just  under  the  armpit  was  the 
mark  of  the  bullet — a  small  puncture  al 
ready  closed,  half  hidden  under  a  clot  or 
two  of  blood.  The  coolie  lay  quite  un 
conscious,  his  eyes  wide  open,  drawing  a 
faint,  quick  breath  at  irregular  intervals. 

"What  do   you    think,   mate?"    asked 
Moran  in  a  low  voice. 
15  225 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

"  I  think  he's  got  it  through  the  lungs," 
answered  Wilbur,  frowning  in  distress 
and  perplexity.  "Poor  old  Charlie!" 

Moran  went  down  on  a  knee,  and  put 
a  finger  on  the  slim,  corded  wrist,  yellow 
as  old  ivory. 

"Charlie,"  she  called, — "Charlie,  here, 
don't  you  know  me  ?  Wake  up,  old  chap ! 
It's  Moran.  You're  not  hurt  so  very 
bad,  are  you?" 

Charlie's  eyes  closed  and  opened  a 
couple  of  times. 

"No  can  tell,"  he  answered  feebly; 
"  hurt  plenty  big" ;  then  he  began  to  cough. 

Wilbur  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  "He's 
all  right!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  I  think  he's  all  right,"  assented 
Moran. 

"First    thing    to    do    now    is    to    get 

him  aboard  the  schooner,"  said  Wilbur. 

"  We'll    take    him    right   across    in    the 

beachcombers'  dory  here.     By  Jove !"  he 

exclaimed  on  a  sudden.     "  The  ambergris 

—I'd  forgotten  all  about  it."     His  heart 

226 


A  Change   in   Leaders 

sank.  In  the  hideous  confusion  of  that 
morning's  work,  all  thought  of  the  loot 
had  been  forgotten.  Had  the  battle 
been  for  nothing,  after  all?  The  mo 
ment  the  beachcombers  had  been  made 
aware  of  the  meditated  attack,  it  would 
have  been  an  easy  matter  for  them  to 
have  hidden  the  ambergris — destroyed 
it  even. 

In  two  strides  Wilbur  had  reached  the 
beachcombers'  dory  and  was  groping  in 
the  forward  cuddy.  Then  he  uttered  a 
great  shout  of  satisfaction.  The  "  stuff" 
was  there,  all  of  it,  though  the  mass  had 
been  cut  into  quarters,  three  parts  of  it 
stowed  in  tea-flails,  the  fourth  still  reeved 
up  in  the  hammock  netting. 

"We've  got  it!"  he  cried  to  Moran, 
who  had  followed  him.  "  We've  got  it, 
Moran !  Over  $100,000.  We're  rich- 
rich  as  boodlers,  you  and  I.  Oh,  it  was 
worth  fighting  for,  after  all,  wasn't  it? 
Now  we'll  get  out  of  here, — now  we'll  cut 
for  home." 

227 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"  It's  only  Charlie  I'm  thinking  about," 
answered  Moran,  hesitating.  "If  it 
wasn't  for  that  we'd  be  all  right.  I  don't 
know  whether  we  did  right,  after  all,  in 
jumping  the  camp  here.  I  wouldn't  like 
to  feel  that  I'd  got  Charlie  into  our  quar 
rel  only  to  have  him  killed." 

Wilbur  stared  at  this  new  Moran  in  no 
little  amazement.  Where  was  the  reck 
less,  untamed  girl  'of  the  previous  night, 
who  had  sworn  at  him  and  denounced 
his  niggling  misgivings  as  to  right  and 
wrong  ? 

"Hoh!"  he  retorted  impatiently, 
"  Charlie's  right  enough.  And,  besides,  I 

didn't   force  him  to  anything.      I we, 

that  is,  we  took  the  same  chances.  If  I 
hadn't  done  for  my  man  there  behind  the 
cabin,  he  would  have  done  for  me.  At 
all  events,  we  carried  our  point.  We  got 
the  loot.  They  took  it  from  us,  and  we 
were  strong  enough  to  get  it  back. " 

Moran  merely  nodded,  as  though  satis 
fied  with  his  decision,  and  added : 


A  Change   in  Leaders 

"Well,  what  next,  mate?" 

:<  We'll  get  back  to  the  Bertha  now  and 
put  to  sea  as  soon  as  we  can  catch  the 
tide.  I'll  send  Jim  and  two  of  the  oth 
er  men  across  in  the  dory  with  Charlie. 
The  rest  of  us  will  go  around  by  the 
shore.  We've  got  to  have  a  chin-chin 
with  Hoang,  if  he  don't  get  loose  aboard 
there  and  fire  the  boat  before  we  can 
get  back.  I  don't  propose  taking 
these  beachcombers  back  to  Frisco  with 
us." 

"  What  will  we  do  with  the  two  pris 
oners?"  she  asked. 

"Let  them  go;  we've  got  their  arms." 

The  positions  of  the  two  were  reversed. 
It  was  Wilbur  who  assumed  control  and 
direction  of  what  went  forward,  Moran 
taking  his  advice  and  relying  upon  his 
judgment. 

In    accordance   with  Wilbur's   orders, 

Charlie    was    carried    aboard  the    dory, 

which,  with  two  Chinamen  at  the  oars, 

and  the  ambergris  stowed  again  into  the 

229 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

cuddy,  at  once  set  off  for  the  schooner. 
Wilbur  himself  cut  the  ropes  on  the  two 
prisoners,  and  bade  them  shift  for  them 
selves.  The  rest  of  the  party  returned 
to  the  Bertha  Millner  around  the  wide 
sweep  of  the  beach. 

It  was  only  by  high  noon,  under  the 
flogging  of  a  merciless  sun,  that  the  en 
tire  crew  of  the  little  schooner  once  more 
reassembled  under  the  shadow  of  her 
stranded  hulk.  They  were  quite  worn 
out;  and  as  soon  as  Charlie  was  lifted 
aboard,  and  the  ambergris — or,  as  they 
spoke  of  it  now,  the  "loot" — was  safely 
stowed  in  the  cabin,  Wilbur  allowed  the 
Chinamen  three  or  four  hours'  rest. 
They  had  had  neither  breakfast  nor  din 
ner;  but  their  exhaustion  was  greater 
than  their  hunger,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  entire  half-dozen  were  stretched  out 
asleep  on  the  forward  deck  in  the  shadow 
of  the  foresail,  raised  for  the  purpose  of 
sheltering  them.  However,  Wilbur  and 
Moran  sought  out  Hoang,  whom  they 
230 


A  Change   in  Leaders 

found  as  they  had  left  him — bound  upon 
the  floor  of  the  cabin. 

"Now  we  have  a  talk — savvy?"  Wil 
bur  told  him  as  he  loosed  the  ropes  about 
his  wrists  and  ankles.  "  We  got  our  loot 
back  from  you,  old  man,  and  we  got  one 
of  your  men  into  the  bargain.  You  woke 
up  the  wrong  crowd,  Hoang,  when  you 
went  up  against  this  outfit.  You're  in 
a  bad  way,  my  friend.  Your  junk  is 
wrecked;  all  your  oil  and  blubber  from 
the  whale  is  lost ;  four  of  your  men  have 
run  away,  one  is  killed,  another  one  we 
caught  and  let  go,  another  one  has  been 
hamstrung;  and  you  yourself  are  our 
prisoner,  with  your  teeth  filed  down  to 
your  gums.  Now,"  continued  Wilbur, 
with  the  profoundest  gravity,  "I  hope 
this  will  be  a  lesson  to  you.  Don't  try 
and  get  too  much  the  next  time.  Just 
be  content  with  what  is  yours  by  right, 
or  what  you  are  strong  enough  to  keep, 
and  don't  try  to  fight  white  people. 

Other  coolies,  I  don't  say.     But  when  you 
231 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

try  to  get  the  better  of  white  people  you 
are  out  of  your  class." 

The  little  beachcomber  (he  was  scarce 
ly  above  five  feet)  rubbed  his  chafed 
wrists,  and  fixed  Wilbur  with  his  tiny, 
twinkling  eyes. 

"What  you  do  now?" 

"  We  go  home.  I'm  going  to  maroon 
you  and  your  people  here  on  this  beach. 
You  deserve  that  I  should  let  you  eat 
your  fists  by  way  of  table-board;  but  I'm 
no  such  dirt  as  you.  When  our  men  left 
the  schooner  they  brought  off  with  them 
a  good  share  of  our  provisions.  I'll  leave 
them  here  for  you — and  there's  plenty  of 
turtle  and  abalone  to  be  had  for  the  catch 
ing.  Some  of  the  American  men-of-war, 
I  believe,  come  down  to  this  bay  for  target- 
practice  twice  a  year,  and  if  we  speak  any 
on  the  way  up  we'll  ask  them  to  call  here 
for  castaways.  That's  what  I'll  do  for 
you,  and  that's  all !  If  you  don't  like  it, 
you  can  set  out  to  march  up  the  coast  till 

you  hit  a  town ;  but  I  wouldn't  advise  you 
232 


A   Change   in  Leaders 

to  try  it.     Now  what  have  you  got    to 
say?" 

Hoang  was  silent.  His  queue  had  be 
come  unbound  for  half  its  length,  and  he 
plaited  it  anew,  winking  his  eyes  thought- 
fully. 

"Well,  what  do  you  say?"  said  Moran. 

"  I  lose  face,"  answered  Hoang  at  length, 
calmly. 

"  You  lose  face  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  lose  face,"  he  insisted;  then  add 
ed:  "I  heap  'shamed.  You  fightee  my 
China  boy,  you  catchee  me.  My  boy  no 
mo'  hab  me  f  o'  boss — savvy  ?  I  go  back, 
him  no  likee  me.  Mebbee  all  same  killee  , 
me.  I  lose  face — no  mo'  boss." 

"  What  a  herd  of  wild  cattle !"  muttered 
Wilbur. 

"There's  something  in  what  he  says, 
don't  you  think,  mate?"  observed  Moran, 
bringing  a  braid  over  each  shoulder  and 
stroking  it  according  to  her  habit. 

"We'll  ask  Jim  about  it,"  decided  Wil 
bur. 

233 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

But  Jim  at  once  confirmed  Hoang's 
statement.  "Oh,  Kai-gingh  killum  no- 
good  boss,  fo'  sure,"  he  declared. 

"Don't  you  think,  mate,"  said  Moran, 
"we'd  better  take  him  up  to  Trisco  with 
us?  We've  had  enough  fighting  and 
killing." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  the  defeated 
beachcomber,  the  whipped  buccaneer,  who 
had  "lost  face"  and  no  longer  dared  look 
his  men  in  the  eye,  should  be  taken  aboard. 

By  four  o'clock  next  morning  Wilbur 
had  the  hands  at  work  digging  the  sand 
from  around  the  Bertha  Millners  bow. 
The  line  by  which  she  was  to  be  warped 
off  was  run  out  to  the  ledge  of  the  rock; 
fresh  water  was  taken  on;  provisions  for 
the  marooned  beachcombers  were  cached 
upon  the  beach ;  the  dory  was  taken 
aboard,  gaskets  were  cast  off,  and  hatches 
battened  down. 

At  high  tide,  all  hands  straining  upon 
the  warp,  the  schooner  was  floated  off, 

and  under  touch  of  the  lightest  airs  drew 
234 


A  Change   in   Leaders 

almost  imperceptibly  away  from  the  land. 
They  were  quite  an  hour  crawling  out 
to  the  heads  of  the  bay.  But  here  the 
breeze  was  freshening.  Moran  took  the 
wheel;  the  flying-jib  and  staysail  were 
set;  the  wake  began  to  whiten  under  the 
schooner's  stern,  the  forefoot  sang;  the 
Pacific  opened  out  more  and  more ;  and  by 
12:30  o'clock  Moran  put  the  wheel  over, 
and,  as  the  schooner's  bow  swung  to  the 
northward,  cried  to  Wilbur: 

"Mate,  look  your  last  of  Magdalena 
Bay!" 

Standing  at  her  side,  Wilbur  turned 
and  swept  the  curve  of  the  coast  with  a 
single  glance.  The  vast,  heat-scourged 
hoop  of  yellow  sand,  the  still,  smooth 
shield  of  indigo  water,  with  its  beds  of 
kelp,  had  become  insensibly  dear  to  him. 
It  was  all  familiar,  friendly,  and  hospi 
table.  Hardly  an  acre  of  that  sweep  of 
beach  that  did  not  hold  the  impress  of 
his  foot.  There  was  the  point  near  by 
the  creek  where  he  and  Moran  first  land- 
235 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

ed  to  fill  the  water- casks  and  to  gather 
abalones;  the  creek  itself,  where  he 
had  snared  quail;  the  sand-spit,  with  its 
whitened  whale's  skull,  where  he  and 
Moran  had  beached  the  schooner;  and 
there,  last  of  all,  that  spot  of  black  over 
which  still  hung  a  haze  of  brown  gray 
smoke,  the  charred  ruins  of  the  old  Por 
tuguese  whaling- cabin,  where  they  had 
outfought  the  beachcombers. 

For  a  moment  Wilbur  and  Moran 
looked  back  without  speaking.  They 
stood  on  the  quarter-deck,  in  the  shadow 
of  the  mainsail,  shut  off  from  the  sight  of 
the  schooner's  crew,  and  for  the  instant 
quite  alone. 

"Well,  Moran,  it's  good-by  to  the  old 
place,  isn't  it?"  said  Wilbur  at  length. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  her  deep  voice  pitched 
even  deeper  than  usual.  "Mate,  great 
things  have  happened  there." 

"  It  doesn't  look  like  a  place  for  a  tong 
row  with  Chinese  pirates,  though,  does 

it?"  he  said;    but  even  as  he  spoke  the 
236 


A   Change   in   Leaders 

words,  lie  guessed  that  that  was  not  what 
he  meant. 

"Oh,  what  did  that  amount  to?"  she 
said,  with  an  impatient  movement  of  her 
head.  "  It  was  there  that  I  first  knew 
myself ;  and  knew  that,  after  all,  you  were 
a  man  and  I  was  a  woman;  and  that 
there  was  just  us — you  and  I — in  the 
world ;  and  that  you  loved  me  and  I 
loved  you,  and  that  nothing  else  was 
worth  thinking  of." 

Wilbur  shut  his  hand  down  over  hers 
as  it  gripped  a  spoke  of  the  wheel. 

"Moran,  I  knew  that  long  since,"  he 
said.  "  Such  a  month  as  this  has  been ! 
Why,  I  feel  as  though  I  had  only  begun 
to  live  since  I  began  to  love  you." 

"And  you  do,  mate?"  she  answered, — 
"  you  do  love  me,  and  always  will  ?  Oh ! 
you  don't  know,"  she  went  on,  interrupt 
ing  his  answer,  "you  haven't  a  guess, 
how  the  last  two  days  have  changed  me. 
Something  has  happened  here," — and  she 
put  both  her  hands  over  her  breast.  "  I'm 
237 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

all  different  here,  mate.  It's  all  you  in 
side  here — all  you!  And  it  hurts,  and 
I'm  proud  that  it  does  hurt.  Oh !"  she 
cried,  of  a  sudden,  "I  don't  know  how  to 
love  yet,  and  I  do  it  very  badly,  and  I 
can't  tell  you  how  I  feel,  because  I  can't 
even  tell  it  to  myself.  But  you  must  be 
good  to  me  now."  The  deep  voice  trem 
bled  a  little.  "Good  to  me,  mate,  and 
true  to  me,  mate,  because  I've  only  you, 
and  all  of  me  is  yours.  Mate,  be  good  to 
me,  and  always  be  kind  to  me.  I'm  not 
Moran  any  more.  I'm  not  proud  and 
strong  and  independent,  and  I  don't  want 
to  be  lonely.  I  want  you — I  want  you 
always  with  me.  I'm  just  a  woman  now, 
dear — just  a  woman  that  loves  you  with  a 
heart  she's  just  found." 

Wilbur  could  find  no  words  to  answer. 
There  was  something  so  pathetic  and  at 
the  same  time  so  noble  in  Moran' s  com 
plete  surrender  of  herself,  and  her  depen 
dence  upon  him,  her  unquestioned  trust 
in  him  and  his  goodness,  that  he  was  sud- 
238 


A   Change   in   Leaders 

denly  smitten  with  awe  at  the  sacredness 
of  the  obligation  thus  imposed  on  him. 
She  was  his  now,  to  have  and  to  hold,  to 
keep,  to  protect,  and  to  defend — she  who 
was  once  so  glorious  of  her  strength,  of 
her  savage  isolation,  her  unviolate,  pris 
tine  maidenhood.  All  words  seemed  fu 
tile  and  inadequate  to  him. 

She  came  close  to  him,  and  put  her 
hands  upon  his  shoulders,  and,  looking 
him  squarely  in  the  eye,  said: 

"You  do  love  me,  mate,  and  you  al 
ways  will?" 

"Always,  Moran,"  said  Wilbur,  simply. 
He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  laid  her 
cheek  against  his  for  a  moment,  then  took 
his  head  between  her  hands  and  kissed 
him. 

Two  days  passed.  The  Bertlia  Millner 
held  steadily  to  her  northward  course, 
Moran  keeping  her  well  in  toward  the 
land.  Wilbur  maintained  a  lookout  from 
the  crow's-nest  in  the  hope  of  sighting 

some  white  cruiser  or  battleship  on  her 
239 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

way  south  for  target-practice.  In  the 
cache  of  provisions  he  had  left  for  the 
beachcombers  he  had  inserted  a  message, 
written  by  Hoang,  to  the  effect  that  they 
might  expect  to  be  taken  off  by  a  United 
States  man-of-war  within  the  month. 

Hoang  did  not  readily  recover  his  "  loss 
of  face."  The  Bertha's  Chinamen  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  this  member  of  a 
hostile  tong;  and  the  humiliated  beach 
comber  kept  almost  entirely  to  himself, 
sitting  on  the  forecastle-head  all  day  long, 
smoking  his  sui-yen-hu  and  brooding 
silently  to  himself. 

Moran  had  taken  the  lump  of  ambergris 
from  out  Kitchell's  old  hammock,  and  had 
slung  the  hammock  itself  in  the  schooner's 
waist,  and  Charlie  was  made  as  comfort 
able  as  possible  therein.  They  could  do 
but  little  for  him,  however;  and  he  was 
taken  from  time  to  time  with  spells  of 
coughing  that  racked  him  with  a  dreadful 
agony.  At  length  one  noon,  just  after 
Moran  had  taken  the  sun  and  had  cal- 
240 


A  Change  in  Leaders 

culated  that  the  Bertha  was  some  eight 
miles  to  the  southwest  of  San  Diego,  she 
was  surprised  to  hear  Wilbur  calling  her 
sharply.  She  ran  to  him,  and  found  him 
standing  in  the  waist  by  Charlie's  ham 
mock. 

The  Chinaman  was  dying,  and  knew  it. 
He  was  talking  in  a  faint  and  feeble  voice 
to  Wilbur  as  she  came  up,  and  was  trying 
to  explain  to  him  that  he  was  sorry  he 
had  deserted  the  schooner  during  the  scare 
in  the  bay. 

"  Plenty  muchee  solly,"  he  said ;  "  China 
boy,  him  heap  flaid  of  Feng-shui.  When 
Feng-shui  no  likee,  we  then  must  go 
chop-chop.  Plenty  much  solly  I  leave- 
urn  schooner  that  night;  solly  plenty- 
savvy?" 

"Of  course  we  savvy,  Charlie,"  said 
Moran.  "You  weren't  afraid  when  it 
came  to  fighting." 

"I  die  pletty  soon,"  said  Charlie  calm 
ly.  "  You  say  you  gib  me  fifteen  hundled 

dollah?" 

16  241 


Moran   of  the  Lady   Letty 

"Yes,  yes;  that  was  our  promise. 
What  do  you  want  done  with  it,  Charlie  ?" 

"  I  want  plenty  fine  funeral  in  China 
town  in  San  Flancisco.  Oh,  heap  fine! 
You  buy  urn  first-chop  coffin — savvy? 
Silver  heap  much — costum  big  money. 
You  gib  my  money  to  Hop  Sing  Associa 
tion,  topside  Ming  Yen  temple.  You 
savvy  Hop  Sing? — one  Six  Companies." 

"Yes,  yes." 

"Tellum  Hop  Sing  I  want  funeral— 
four-pie  cee  horse.  You  no  flogettee 
horse?"  he  added  apprehensively. 

"  No,  I'll  not  forget  the  horses,  Charlie. 
You  shall  have  four." 

"Want  six-piecee  band  musicians- 
China  music — heap  plenty  gong.  You  no 
flogettee  ?  Two-piecee  priest,  all  dressum 
white — savvy?  You  mus'  buyum  coffin 
yo'self.  Velly  fine  coffin,  heap  much  sil 
ver,  an'  four-piecee  horse.  You  catchum 
fireclacker — one,  five,  seven  hundled  fire- 
clacker,  makeum  big  noise ;  an'  loast  pig, 

an'  plenty  lice  an'  China  blandy.     Heap 
242 


A  Change   in  Leaders 

fine  funeral,  costum  fifteen  bundled  dol- 
lah.  I  be  bury  all  same  Mandarin — all 
same  Little  Pete.  You  plomise,  sure?" 

"I  promise  you,  Charlie.  You  shall 
have  a  funeral  finer  than  Little  Pete's." 

Charlie  nodded  his  head  contentedly, 
drawing  a  breath  of  satisfaction. 

"  Bimeby  Hop  Sing  sendum  body  back 
China."  He  closed  his  eyes  and  lay  for 
a  long  time,  worn  out  with  the  effort 
of  speaking,  as  if  asleep.  Suddenly  he 
opened  his  eyes  wide.  "  You  no  flogettee 
horse?" 

"  Four  horses,  Charlie.     I'll  remember. " 

He  drooped  once  more,  only  to  rouse 
again  at  the  end  of  a  few  minutes  with : 

"  First-chop  coffin,  plenty  much  silver" ; 
and  again,  a  little  later  and  very  feebly : 
"Six-piecee — band  music — China  music; 
— f  our-piecee — gong — four. " 

"I  promise  you,  Charlie,"  said  Wilbur. 

"Now,"  answered  Charlie, — "now  I 
die." 

And  the  low-caste  Cantonese  coolie, 
243 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

with  all  the  dignity  and  calmness  of  a 
Cicero,  composed  himself  for  death. 

An  hour  later  Wilbur  and  Moran  knew 
that  he  was  dead.  Yet,  though  they  had 
never  left  the  hammock,  they  could  not 
have  told  at  just  what  moment  he  died. 

Later,  on  that  same  afternoon,  Wilbur, 
from  the  crow's-nest,  saw  the  lighthouse 
on  Point  Loma  and  the  huge  rambling 
bulk  of  the  Coronado  Hotel  spreading  out 
and  along  the  beach. 

It  was  the  outpost  of  civilization. 
They  were  getting  back  to  the  world  again. 
Within  an  hour's  ride  of  the  hotel  were 
San  Diego,  railroads,  newspapers,  and 
policemen.  Just  off  the  hotel,  however, 
Wilbur  could  discern  the  gleaming  white 
hull  of  a  United  States  man-of-war. 
With  the  glass  he  could  make  her  out  to 
be  one  of  the  monitors — the  Monterey  in 
all  probability. 

After  advising  with  Moran,  it  was  de 
cided  to  put  in  to  land.  The  report  as  to 

the  castaways  could  be  made  to  the  Mon- 
244 


A   Change   in   Leaders 

terey,  and  Charlie's  body  forwarded  to  his 
tong  in  San  Francisco. 

In  two  hours'  time  the  schooner  was 
well  up,  and  Wilbur  stood  by  Moran's 
side  at  the  wheel,  watching  and  studying 
the  familiar  aspect  of  Coronado  Beach. 

"  It's  a  great  winter  resort,"  he  told  her. 
"  I  was  down  here  with  a  party  two  years 
ago.  Nothing  has  changed.  You  see 
that  big  sort  of  round  wing,  Moran,  all 
full  of  windows  ?  That's  the  dining-room. 
And  there's  the  bathhouse  and  the  bowl 
ing-alley.  See  the  people  on  the  beach, 
and  the  girls  in  white  duck  skirts ;  and 
look  up  there  by  the  veranda — let  me 
take  the  glass — yes,  there's  a  tally-ho 
coach.  Isn't  it  queer  to  get  back  to  this 
sort  of  thing  after  Magdalena  Bay  and  the 
beachcombers  ?" 

Moran  spun  the  wheel  without  reply, 
and  gave  an  order  to  Jim  to  ease  off  the 
foresheet. 


245 


XII 
New    Conditions 

THE  winter  season  at  the  Hotel  del 
Coronado  had  been  unusually  gay  that 
year,  and  the  young  lady  who  wrote  the 
society  news  in  diary  form  for  one  of  the 
San  Francisco  weekly  papers  had  held 
forth  at  much  length  upon  the  hotel's 
"  unbroken  succession  of  festivities. "  She 
had  also  noted  that  "  prominent  among  the 
newest  arrivals"  had  been  Mr.  Nat  Ridge- 
way,  of  San  Francisco,  who  had  brought 
down  from  the  city,  aboard  his  elegant 
and  sumptuously  fitted  yacht  Petrel,  a 
jolly  party,  composed  largely  of  the  sea 
son's  debutantes.  To  be  mentioned  in 
the  latter  category  was  Miss  Josie  Her- 
rick,  whose  lavender  coming-out  tea  at 
246 


New  Conditions 

the  beginning  of  the  season  was  still  a 
subject  of  comment  among  the  gossips — 
and  all  the  rest  of  it. 

The  Petrel  had  been  in  the  harbor  but 
a  few  days,  and  on  this  evening  a  dance 
was  given  at  the  hotel  in  honor  of  her 
arrival.  It  was  to  be  a  cotillon,  and  Nat 
Eidgeway  was  going  to  lead  with  Josie 
Herri ck.  There  had  been  a  coaching 
party  to  Tia  Juana  that  day,  and  Miss 
Herrick  had  returned  to  the  hotel  only  in 
time  to  dress.  By  9:30  she  emerged  from 
the  process — which  had  involved  her 
mother,  her  younger  sister,  her  maid,  and 
one  of  the  hotel  chambermaids — a  dainty, 
firm-corseted  little  body,  all  tulle,  white 
satin,  and  high-piled  hair.  She  carried 
Mare'chal  Mel  roses,  ordered  by  wire  from 
Monterey ;  and  about  an  hour  later,  when 
Ridgeway  gave  the  nod  to  the  waiting  mu 
sicians,  and  swung  her  off  to  the  beat  of  a 
two-step,  there  was  not  a  more  graceful  lit 
tle  figure  upon  the  floor  of  the  incompar 
able  round  ballroom  of  the  Coronado  Hotel. 
247 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

The  cotillon  was  a  great  success.  The 
ensigns  and  younger  officers  of  the  moni 
tor — at  that  time  anchored  off  the  hotel- 
attended  in  uniform ;  and  enough  of  the 
members  of  what  was  known  in  San  Fran 
cisco  as  the  "dancing  set"  were  present 
to  give  the  affair  the  necessary  entrain. 
Even  Jerry  Haight,  who  belonged  more 
distinctly  to  the  "country-club  set,"  and 
who  had  spent  the  early  part  of  that  win 
ter  shooting  elk  in  Oregon,  was  among  the 
ranks  of  the  "rovers,"  who  grouped  them 
selves  about  the  draughty  doorways,  and 
endeavored  to  appear  unconscious  each 
time  Eidgeway  gave  the  signal  for  a 
"break." 

The  figures  had  gone  round  the  hall 
once.  The  "  first  set"  was  out  again,  and 
as  Eidgeway  guided  Miss  Herrick  by  the 
"  rovers"  she  looked  over  the  array  of  shirt- 
fronts,  searching  for  Jerry  Haight. 

"Do  you  see  Mr.  Haight?"   she  asked 
of  Eidgeway.     "  I  wanted   to  favor  him 
this  break.     I  owe  him  two  already,  and 
248 


New  Conditions 

he'll  never  forgive  me  if  I  overlook  him 
now." 

Jerry  Haight  had  gone  to  the  hotel 
office  for  a  few  moments'  rest  and  a  ciga 
rette,  and  was  nowhere  in  sight.  But 
when  the  set  broke,  and  Miss  Herrick,  de 
spairing  of  Jerry,  had  started  out  to  favor 
one  of  the  younger  ensigns,  she  sudden 
ly  jostled  against  him,  pushing  his  way 
eagerly  across  the  floor  in  the  direction  of 
the  musicians'  platform. 

"  Oh !"  she  cried,  "  Mr.  Haight,  you've 
missed  your  chance — I've  been  looking 
for  you." 

But  Jerry  did  not  hear — he  seemed 
very  excited.  He  crossed  the  floor,  almost 
running,  and  went  up  on  the  platform 
where  the  musicians  were  meandering 
softly  through  the  mazes  of  "La  Paloma," 
and  brought  them  to  an  abrupt  silence. 

"  Here,  I  say,  Haight !"  exclaimed  Kidge- 
way,  who  was  near  by,  "you  can't  break 
up  my  figure  like  that." 

"Gi'  me  a  call  there  on  the  bugle," 
249 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

said  Haight  rapidly  to  the  cornetist. 
"Anything  to  make  'em  keep  quiet  a 
moment. " 

The  cornetist  sounded  a  couple  of  notes, 
and  the  cotillon  paused  in  the  very  act  of 
the  break .  The  shuffling  of  feet  grew  still , 
and  the  conversation  ceased.  A  diamond 
brooch  had  been  found,  no  doubt,  or  some 
supper  announcement  was  to  be  made. 
But  Jerry  Haight,  with  a  great  sweep  of 
his  arm,  the  forgotten  cigarette  between 
his  fingers,  shouted  out  breathlessly : 

"  Eoss  Wilbur  is  out  in  the  office  of  the 
hotel !" 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  and  then 
a  great  shout.  Wilbur  found !  Eoss  Wil 
bur  come  back  from  the  dead !  Eoss  Wil 
bur,  hunted  for  and  bootlessly  traced  from 
Buenos  Ayres  in  the  south  to  the  Aleutian 
Islands  in  the  north.  Eoss  Wilbur,  the 
puzzle  of  every  detective  bureau  on  the 
coast ;  the  subject  of  a  thousand  theories ; 
whose  name  had  figured  in  the  scare- 
heads  of  every  newspaper  west  of  the 
250 


New   Conditions 

Mississippi.  Eoss  Wilbur,  seen  at  a  fash 
ionable  tea  and  his  club  of  an  afternoon, 
then  suddenly  blotted  out  from  the  world 
of  men ;  swallowed  up  and  engulfed  by  the 
unknown,  with  not  so  much  as  a  button 
left  behind.  Eoss  Wilbur  the  suicide; 
Eoss  Wilbur  the  murdered ;  Eoss  Wilbur, 
victim  of  a  band  of  kidnappers,  the  hero 
of  some  dreadful  story  that  was  never  to 
be  told,  the  mystery,  the  legend, — behold 
he  was  there!  Back  from  the  unknown, 
dropped  from  the  clouds,  spewed  up  again 
from  the  bowels  of  the  earth — a  veritable 
god  from  the  machine  who  in  a  single 
instant  was  to  disentangle  all  the  unex 
plained  complications  of  those  past  winter 
months. 

"Here  he  comes!"  shouted  Jerry,  his 
eyes  caught  by  a  group  of  men  in  full  dress 
and  gold  lace  who  came  tramping  down  the 
hall  to  the  ballroom,  bearing  a  nondescript 
figure  on  their  shoulders.  "Here  he 
comes — the  boys  are  bringing  him  in  here ! 
Oh !"  he  cried,  turning  to  the  musicians, 
251 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"can't  you  play  something? — anything! 
Hit  it  up  for  all  you're  worth !  Eidgeway 
—Nat,  look  here!  Eoss  was  Yale,  y' 
know — Yale  '95;  ain't  we  enough  Yale 
men  here  to  give  him  the  yell?" 

Out  of  all  time  and  tune,  but  with  a 
vigor  that  made  up  for  both,  the  musi 
cians  banged  into  a  patriotic  air.  Jerry, 
standing  on  a  chair  that  itself  was  stand 
ing  on  the  platform,  led  half-a-dozen  fran 
tic  men  in  the  long  thunder  of  the  "  Brek- 
kek-kek-kex,  co-ex,  co-ex." 

Around  the  edges  of  the  hall  excited 
girls,  and  chaperons  themselves  no  less 
agitated,  were  standing  up  on  chairs  and 
benches,  splitting  their  gloves  and  break 
ing  their  fans  in  their  enthusiasm ;  while 
every  male  dancer  on  the  floor — ensigns  in 
their  gold-faced  uniforms  and  "rovers" 
in  starched  and  immaculate  shirt-bosoms 
— cheered  and  cheered  and  struggled  with 
one  another  to  shake  hands  with  a  man 
whom  two  of  their  number — old  Yale 
grads.,  with  memories  of  athletic  triumphs 
252 


New   Conditions 

yet  in  their  minds — carried  into  that  ball 
room,  borne  high  upon  their  shoulders. 

And  the  hero  of  the  occasion,  the  centre 
of  all  this  enthusiasm — thus  carried  as  if 
in  triumph  into  this  assembly  in  evening 
dress,  in  white  tulle  and  whiter  kid,  odor 
ous  of  delicate  sachets  and  scarce-percep 
tible  perfumes — was  a  figure  unhandsome 
and  unkempt  beyond  description.  His 
hair  was  long,  and  hanging  over  his  eyes. 
A  thick,  uncared-for  beard  concealed  the 
mouth  and  chin.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
Chinaman's  blouse  and  jeans — the  latter 
thrust  into  slashed  and  tattered  boots. 
The  tan  and  weatherbeatings  of  nearly 
half  a  year  of  the  tropics  were  spread  over 
his  face;  a  partly  healed  scar  disfigured 
one  temple  and  cheek-bone ;  the  hands,  to 
the  very  finger-nails,  were  gray  with 
grime;  the  jeans  and  blouse  and  boots 
were  fouled  with  grease,  with  oil,  with 
pitch,  and  all  manner  of  the  dirt  of  an  un 
cared-for  ship.  And  as  the  dancers  of  the 

cotillon  pressed  about,  and  a  hundred  kid- 
253 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

gloved  hands  stretched  toward  his  own 
palms,  there  fell  from  Wilbur's  belt  upon 
the  waxed  floor  of  the  ballroom  the  knife 
he  had  so  grimly  used  in  the  fight  upon 
the  beach,  the  ugly  stains  still  blackening 
on  the  haft. 

There  was  no  more  cotillon  that  night. 
They  put  him  down  at  last ;  and  in  half-a- 
dozen  sentences  Wilbur  told  them  of  how 
he  had  been  shanghaied — told  them  of 
Magdalena  Bay,  his  fortune  in  the  amber 
gris,  and  the  fight  with  the  beachcombers. 

"  You  people  are  going  down  there  for 
target-practice,  aren't  you?"  he  said,  turn 
ing  to  one  of  the  Monterey's  officers  in  the 
crowd  about  him.  "Yes?  Well,  you'll 
find  the  coolies  there,  on  the  beach,  wait 
ing  for  you.  All  but  one,"  he  added, 
grimly. 

"We  marooned  six  of  them,  but  the 
seventh  didn't  need  to  be  marooned. 
They  tried  to  plunder  us  of  our  boat,  but 
by  -  — ,  we  made  it  interesting  for  'em !" 

"I  say,   steady,  old   man!"  exclaimed 
254 


New  Conditions 

Nat  Ridgeway,  glancing  nervously  toward 
the  girls  in  the  surrounding  group.  "  This 
isn't  Magdalena  Bay,  you  know." 

And  for  the  first  time  Wilbur  felt  a 
genuine  pang  of  disappointment  and  regret 
as  he  realized  that  it  was  not. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Ridgeway  drew  him 
aside.  "  I  say,  Ross,  let's  get  out  of  here. 
You  can't  stand  here  talking  all  night. 
Jerry7  and  you  and  I  will  go  up  to  my 
rooms,  and  we  can  talk  there  in  peace. 
I'll  order  up  three  quarts  of  fizz,  and— 

"Oh,  rot  your  fizz!"  declared  Wilbur. 
"  If  you  love  me,  give  me  Christian  to 
bacco.  " 

As  they  were  going  out  of  the  ballroom, 
Wilbur  caught  sight  of  Josie  Herrick, 
and,  breaking  away  from  the  others,  ran 
over  to  her. 

"  Oh !"  she  cried,  breathless.  "  To  think 
and  to  think  of  your  coming  back  after 
all !  No,  I  don't  realize  it — I  can't.  It 
will  take  me  until  morning  to  find  out 
that  you've  really  come  back.  I  just 
255 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

know  now  that  I'm  happier  than  I  ever 
was  in  my  life  before.  Oh !"  she  cried, 
"  do  I  need  to  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  ? 
It's  just  too  splendid  for  words.  Do  you 
know,  I  was  thought  to  be  the  last  person 
you  had  ever  spoken  to  while  alive,  and 
the  reporters  and  all — oh,  but  we  must 
have  such  a  talk  when  all  are  quiet  again ! 
And  our  dance — we've  never  had  our 
dance.  I've  got  your  card  yet.  Eemem- 
ber  the  one  you  wrote  for  me  at  the  tea — 
a  facsimile  of  it  was  published  in  all  the 
papers.  You  are  going  to  be  a  hero  when 
you  get  back  to  San  Francisco.  Oh, 
Eoss!  Boss!"  she  cried,  the  tears  starting 
to  her  eyes,  "you've  really  come  back, 
and  you  are  just  as  glad  as  I  am,  aren't 
you — glad  that  you've  come  back — come 
back  to  me?" 

Later  on,  in  Eidgeway's  room,  Wilbur 
told  his  story  again  more  in  detail  to 
Eidgeway  and  Jerry.  All  but  one  por 
tion  of  it.  He  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  to  speak  to  them — these  society 
256 


New  Conditions 

fellows,  clubmen  and  city  bred — of  Moran. 
How  he  was  going  to  order  his  life  hence 
forward — his  life,  that  he  felt  to  be  void 
of  interest  without  her — he  did  not  know. 
That  was  a  question  for  later  considera 
tion. 

"  We'll  give  another  cotillon !"  exclaimed 
Eidgeway,  "up  in  the  city — give  it  for 
you,  Eoss,  and  you'll  lead.  It'll  be  the 
event  of  the  season !" 

Wilbur  uttered  an  exclamation  of  con 
tempt.  "  I've  done  with  that  sort  of  fool 
ery,"  he  answered. 

"Nonsense;  why,  think,  we'll  have  it 
in  your  honor.  Every  smart  girl  in  town 
will  come,  and  you'll  be  the  lion  of 

"  You  don't  seem  to  understand !"  cried 
Wilbur  impatiently.  "Do  you  think 
there's  any  fun  in  that  for  me  now? 
Why,  man,  I've  fought — fought  with  a 
naked  dirk,  fought  with  a  coolie  who 
snapped  at  me  like  an  ape — and  you  talk 
to  me  of  dancing  and  functions  and  ger- 
man  favors !  It  wouldn't  do  some  of  you 
17  257 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

people  a  bit  of  harm  if  you  were  shang 
haied  yourselves.  That  sort  of  life,  if  it 
don't  do  anything  else,  knocks  a  big  bit 
of  seriousness  into  you.  You  fellows 
make  me  sick,"  he  went  on  vehemently. 
"  As  though  there  wasn't  anything  else  to 
do  but  lead  cotillons  and  get  up  new  fig 
ures  !" 

"Well,  what  do  you  propose  to  do?" 
asked  Nat  Ridge  way.  "Where  are  you 
going  now — back  to  Magdalena  Bay?" 

"No." 

"Where,  then?" 

Wilbur  smote  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"Cuba!"  he  cried.  "I've  got  a  crack 
little  schooner  out  in  the  bay  here,  and 
I've  got  a  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  loot  aboard  of  her.  I've  tried  beach 
combing  for  a  while,  and  now  I'll  try  fili 
bustering.  It  may  be  a  crazy  idea,  but 
it's  better  than  dancing.  I'd  rather  lead 
an  expedition  than  a  german,  and  you  can 
chew  on  that,  Nathaniel  Eidgeway." 

Jerry  looked  at  him  as  he  stood  there 
258 


New  Conditions 

before  them  in  the  filthy,  reeking  blouse 
and  jeans,  the  ragged  boots,  and  the  mane 
of  hair  and  tangled  beard,  and  remembered 
the  Wilbur  he  used  to  know — the  Wilbur 
of  the  carefully  creased  trousers,  the  satin 
scarfs  and  fancy  waistcoats. 

"  You're  a  different  sort  than  when  you 
went  away,  Ross,"  said  Jerry. 

"Eight  you  are,"  answered  Wilbur. 

"But  I  will  venture  a  prophecy,"  con 
tinued  Jerry,  looking  keenly  at  him. 
"  Ross,  you  are  a  born-and-bred  city  man. 
It's  in  the  blood  of  you  and  the  bones  of 
you.  I'll  give  you  three  years  for  this 
new  notion  of  yours  to  wear  itself  out. 
You  think  just  now  you're  going  to  spend 
the  rest  of  your  life  as  an  amateur  buc 
caneer.  In  three  years,  at  the  outside, 
you'll  be  using  your  'loot,'  as  you  call  it 
or  the  interest  of  it,  to  pay  your  taxes 
and  your  tailor,  your  pew  rent  and  your 
club  dues,  and  you'll  be  what  the  biog 
raphers  call  'a  respectable  member  of  the 
community."' 

259 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

"  Did  you  ever  kill  a  man,  Jerry  ?"  asked 
Wilbur.  "  No  ?  Well,  you  kill  one  some 
day — kill  him  in  a  fair  give-and-take  fight 
— and  see  how  it  makes  you  feel,  and 
what  influence  it  has  on  you,  and  then 
come  back  and  talk  to  me. " 

It  was  long  after  midnight.  Wilbur 
rose. 

"We'll  ring  for  a  boy,"  said  Kidgeway, 
"  and  get  you  a  room.  I  can  fix  you  out 
with  clothes  enough  in  the  morning." 

Wilbur  stared  in  some  surprise,  and 
then  said : 

"  Why,  I've  got  the  schooner  to  look 
after.  I  can't  leave  those  coolies  alone 
all  night." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going 
on  board  at  this  time  in  the  morning?" 

"Of  course!" 

"Why — but — but  you'll  catch  your 
death  of  cold." 

Wilbur  stared  at  Eidgeway,  then  nod 
ded  helplessly,  and,  scratching  his  head, 
said,  half  aloud : 

260 


New   Conditions 

"  No,  what's  the  use ;  I  can't  make  'em 
understand.  Good-night.  I'll  see  you 
in  the  morning." 

"  We'll  all  come  out  and  visit  you  on 
your  yacht,"  Eidgeway  called  after  him; 
but  Wilbur  did  not  hear. 

In  answer  to  Wilbur's  whistle,  Jim 
came  in  with  the  dor}'  and  took  him  off' 
to  the  schooner.  Moran  met  him  as  he 
came  over  the  side. 

"  I  took  the  watch  myself  to-night  and 
let  the  boy  turn  in,"  she  said.  "How  is 
it  ashore,  mate?" 

"  We've  come  back  to  the  world  of  little 
things,  Moran,"  said  Wilbur.  "  But  we'll 
pull  out  of  here  in  the  morning  and  get 
back  to  the  places  where  things  acre  real." 

"And  that's  a  good  hearing,  mate." 

"  Let's  get  up  here  on  the  quarter-deck," 
added  Wilbur.  "I've  something  to  pro 
pose  to  you." 

Moran  laid  an  arm  across  his  shoulder, 
and  the  two  walked  aft.  For  half  an 

hour  Wilbur  talked  to  her  earnestly  about 
261 


Moran   of  the   Lady   Letty 

his  new  idea  of  filibustering;  and  as  he 
told  her  of  the  war  he  warmed  to  the  sub 
ject,  his  face  glowing,  his  eyes  sparkling. 
Suddenly,  however,  he  broke  off. 

"But  no!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  don't 
understand,  Moran.  How  can  you— 
you're  foreign-born.  It's  no  affair  of 
yours !" 

"  Mate !  mate !"  cried  Moran,  her  hands 
upon  his  shoulders.  "  It's  you  who  don't 
understand — don't  understand  me.  Don't 
you  know — can't  you  see  ?  Your  people 
are  mine  now.  I'm  happy  only  in  your 
happiness.  You  were  right — the  best  hap 
piness  is  the  happiness  one  shares.  And 
your  sorrows  belong  to  me,  just  as  I 
belong  to  you,  dear.  Your  enemies  are 
mine,  and  your  quarrels  are  my  quarrels." 
She  drew  his  head  quickly  toward  her  and 
kissed  him. 

In  the  morning  the  two  had  made  up 

their  minds  to  a  certain  vague  course  of 

action.     To    get   away — anywhere — was 

their  one  aim.     Moran  was  by  nature  a 

262 


New  Conditions 

creature  unfit  for  civilization,  and  the  love 
of  ad  venture  and  the  desire  for  action  had 
suddenly  leaped  to  life  in  Wilbur's  blood 
and  was  not  to  be  resisted.  They  would 
get  up  to  San  Francisco,  dispose  of  their 
"loot,"  outfit  the  Bertha  Millner  as  a  fili 
buster,  and  put  to  sea  again.  They  had 
discussed  the  advisability  of  rounding  the 
Horn  in  so  small  a  ship  as  the  Bertha 
Millner,  but  Moran  had  settled  that  at 
once. 

"  I've  got  to  know  her  pretty  well,"  she 
told  Wilbur.  "She's  sound  as  a  nut. 
Only  let's  get  away  from  this  place." 

But  toward  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning 
after  their  arrival  off  Coronado,  and  just 
as  they  were  preparing  to  get  under  way, 
Hoang  touched  Wilbur's  elbow. 

"  Seeurn  lil  one-piece  smoke-boat ;  him 
come  chop-chop." 

In  fact,  a  little  steam-launch  was  rapid 
ly  approaching  the  schooner.  In  another 
instant  she  was  alongside.  Jerry,  Nat 
Ridge  way,  Josie  Herrick,  and  an  elderly 
263 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

woman',  whom  Wilbur  barely  knew  as 
Miss  Herrick's  married  sister,  were  aboard. 

"We've  come  off  to  see  your  yacht!" 
cried  Miss  Herrick  to  Wilbur  as  the  launch 
bumped  along  the  schooner's  counter. 
"  Can  we  come  aboard  ?"  She  looked  very 
pretty  in  her  crisp  pink  shirt-waist,  her 
white  duck  skirt,  and  white  kid  shoes, 
her  sailor  hat  tilted  at  a  barely  perceptible 
angle.  The  men  were  in  white  flannels 
and  smart  yachting  suits.  "  Can  we  come 
aboard?"  she  repeated. 

Wilbur  gasped  and  stared.  "Good 
Lord!"  he  muttered.  "Oh,  come  along," 
he  added,  desperately. 

The  party  came  over  the  side. 

"  Oh,  my !"  said  Miss  Herrick  blankly, 
stopping  short. 

The  decks,  masts,  and  rails  of  the 
schooner  were  shiny  with  a  black  coating 
of  dirt  and  grease;  the  sails  were  gray 
with  grime;  a  strangling  odor  of  oil  and 
tar,  of  cooking  and  of  opium,  of  Chinese 
punk  and  drying  fish,  pervaded  all  the 
264 


New  Conditions 

air.  In  the  waist,  Hoaiig  and  Jim,  bare 
to  the  belt,  their  queues  looped  around 
their  necks  to  be  out  of  the  way,  were 
stowing  the  dory  and  exchanging  high- 
pitched  monosyllables.  Miss  Herrick's 
sister  had  not  come  aboard.  The  three 
visitors — Jerry,  Eidgeway,  and  Josie — 
stood  nervously  huddled  together,  their 
elbows  close  in,  as  if  to  avoid  contact 
with  the  prevailing  filth,  their  immaculate 
white  outing- clothes  detaching  themselves 
violently  against  the  squalor  and  sordid 
grime  of  the  schooner's  background. 

"Oh,  my!"  repeated  Miss  Herrick  in 
dismay,  half  closing  her  eyes.  "  To  think 
of  what  you  must  have  been  through !  I 
thought  you  had  some  kind  of  a  yacht.  I 
had  no  idea  it  would  be  like  this."  And 
as  she  spoke,  Moran  came  suddenly  upon 
the  group  from  behind  the  foresail,  and 
paused  in  abrupt  surprise,  her  thumbs  in 
her  belt. 

She  still  wore  men's  clothes  and  was 

booted    to    the   knee.     The    heavy   blue 
265 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

woollen  shirt  was  open  at  the  throat,  the 
sleeves  rolled  half-way  up  her  large  white 
arms.  In  her  belt  she  carried  her  haft- 
less  Scandinavian  dirk.  She  was  hatless 
as  ever,  and  her  heavy,  fragrant  cables  of 
rye-hued  hair  fell  over  her  shoulders  and 
breast  to  far  below  her  belt. 

Miss  Herri ck  started  sharply,  and 
Moran  turned  an  inquiring  glance  upon 
Wilbur.  Wilbur  took  his  resolution  in 
both  hands. 

"  Miss  Herrick,"  he  said,  "  this  is  Moran 
• — Moran  Sternersen." 

Moran  took  a  step  forward,  holding  out 
her  hand.  Josie,  all  bewildered,  put  her 
tight-gloved  fingers  into  the  calloused 
palm,  looking  up  nervously  into  Moran's 
face. 

"I'm  sure,"  she  said  feebly,  almost 
breathlessly,  "I  —  I'm  sure  I'm  very 
pleased  to  meet  Miss  Sternersen." 

It  was  long  before  the  picture  left  Wil 
bur's  imagination.  Josie  Herrick,  petite, 
gowned  in  white,  crisp  from  her  maid's 
266 


New  Conditions 

grooming;  and  Moran,  sea-rover  and 
daughter  of  an  hundred  Vikings,  tower 
ing  above  her,  booted  and  belted,  gravely 
clasping  Josie's  hand  in  her  own  huge 
fist. 


XIII 
Moran  Sternersen 

SAN  FKANCISCO  once  more !  For  two 
days  the  Bertha  Millner  had  been  beating 
up  the  coast,  fighting  her  way  against 
northerly  winds,  butting  into  head  seas. 

The  warmth,  the  stillness,  the  placid, 
drowsing  quiet  of  Magdalena  Bay,  steam 
ing  under  the  golden  eye  of  a  tropic 
heaven,  the  white,  baked  beach,  the  bay- 
heads,  striated  with  the  mirage  in  the 
morning,  the  coruscating  sunset,  the  en 
chanted  mystery  of  the  purple  night,  with 
its  sheen  of  stars  and  riding  moon,  were 
now  replaced  by  the  hale  and  vigorous 
snorting  of  the  trades,  the  roll  of  breakers 
to  landward,  and  the  unremitting  gallop 

of  the  unnumbered  multitudes  of  gray- 
268 


Moran   Sternersen 

green  seas,  careering  silently  past  the 
schooner,  their  crests  occasionally  hissing 
into  brusque  eruptions  of  white  froth,  or 
smiting  broad  on  under  her  counter,  show 
ering  her  decks  with  a  spout  of  icy  spray. 
It  was  cold ;  at  times  thick  fogs  cloaked 
all  the  world  of  water.  To  the  east,  a  pro 
cession  of  bleak  hills  denied  slowly  south 
ward  ;  lighthouses  were  passed ;  streamers 
of  smoke  on  the  western  horizon  marked 
the  passage  of  steamships ;  and  once  they 
met  and  passed  close  by  a  huge  Cape 
Homer,  a  great  deep-sea  tramp,  all  sails 
set  and  drawing,  rolling  slowly  and  lei 
surely  in  seas  that  made  the  schooner 
dance. 

At  last  the  Farallones  looked  over  the 
ocean's  edge  to  the  north;  then  came  the 
whistling-buoy,  the  Seal  Eocks,  the 
Heads,  Point  Eeyes,  the  Golden  Gate 
flanked  with  the  old  red  Presidio,  Lime 
Point  with  its  watching  cannon ;  and  by 
noon  of  a  gray  and  boisterous  day,  under  a 

lusty  wind  and  a  slant  of  rain,  just  five 
269 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

months  after  her  departure,  the  Bertha 
Millner  let  go  her  anchor  in  San  Fran 
cisco  Bay  some  few  hundred  yards  off  the 
Lifeboat  Station. 

In  this  berth  the  schooner  was  still 
three  or  four  miles  from  the  city  and  the 
water-front.  But  Moran  detested  any 
nearer  approach  to  civilization,  and  Wil 
bur  himself  was  willing  to  avoid,  at  least 
for  one  day,  the  publicity  which  he  be 
lieved  the  Bertha's  reappearance  was  sure 
to  attract.  He  remembered,  too,  that  the 
little  boat  carried  with  her  a  fortune  of 
$100,000,  and  decided  that  until  it  could 
be  safely  landed  and  stored  it  was  not  de 
sirable  that  its  existence  should  be  known 
along  "the  Front." 

For  days,  weeks  even,  Wilbur  had 
looked  eagerly  forward  to  this  return  to 
his  home.  He  had  seen  himself  again  in 
his  former  haunts,  in  his  club,  and  in  the 
houses  along  Pacific  avenue  where  he  was 
received ;  but  no  sooner  had  the  anchor- 
chain  ceased  rattling  in  the  Bertha's 
270 


Moran   Sternersen 

hawse-pipe  than  a  strange  revulsion  eame 
upon  him.  The  new  man  that  seemed  to 
have  so  suddenly  sprung  to  life  within 
him,  the  Wilbur  who  was  the  mate  of  the 
Bertha  Millner,  the  Wilbur  who  belonged 
to  Moran,  believed  that  he  could  see  noth 
ing  to  l>e  desired  in  city  life.  For  him  was 
the  unsteady  deck  of  a  schooner,  and  the 
great  winds  and  the  tremendous  wheel  of 
the  ocean's  rim,  and  the  horizon  that  ever 
fled  before  his  following  prow ;  so  he  told 
himself,  so  he  believed.  What  attractions 
could  the  city  offer  him  ?  What  amuse 
ments  ?  what  excitements  ?  He  had  been 
flung  off  the  smoothly  spinning  circum 
ference  of  well-ordered  life  out  into  the 
void. 

He  had  known  romance,  and  the  spell 
of  the  great,  simple,  and  primitive  emo 
tions  ;  he  had  sat  down  to  eat  with  buc 
caneers  ;  he  had  seen  the  fierce,  quick  leap 
of  unleashed  passions,  and  had  felt  death 
swoop  close  at  his  nape  and  pass  like  a 
swift  spurt  of  cold  air.  City  life,  his  old 
271 


Moran   of  the   Lady   Letty 

life,  had  no  charm  for  him  now.  Wilbur 
honestly  believed  that  he  was  changed  to 
his  heart's  core.  He  thought  that,  like 
Moran,  he  was  henceforth  to  be  a  sailor 
of  the  sea,  a  rover,  and  he  saw  the  rest  of 
his  existence  passed  with  her,  aboard  their 
faithful  little  schooner.  They  would  have 
the  whole  round  world  as  their  play 
ground  ;  they  held  the  earth  and  the  great 
seas  in  fief ;  there  was  no  one  to  let  or  to 
hinder.  They  two  belonged  to  each  other. 
Once  outside  the  Heads  again,  and  they 
swept  the  land  of  cities  and  of  little  things 
behind  them,  and  they  two  were  left  alone 
once  more ;  alone  in  the  great  world  of 
romance. 

About  an  hour  after  her  arrival  off  the 
station,  while  Hoang  and  the  hands  were 
furling  the  jib  and  foresail  and  getting 
the  dory  over  the  side,  Moran  remarked 
to  Wilbur: 

"It's  good  we  came  in  when  we  did, 
mate ;  the  glass  is  going  down  fast,  and 
the  wind's  breezing  up  from  the  west; 
272 


Moran  Sternerscn 

we're  going  to  have  a  blow ;  the  tide  will 
be  going  out  in  a  little  while,  and  we 
never  could  have  come  in  against  wind 
and  tide." 

"Moran,"  said  Wilbur,  "I'm  going 
ashore — into  the  station  here;  there's  a 
telephone  line  there;  see  the  wires?  I 
can't  so  much  as  turn  my  hand  over 
before  I  have  some  shore-going  clothes. 
What  do  you  suppose  they  would  do  to 
me  if  I  appeared  on  Kearney  street  in  this 
outfit?  I'll  ring  up  Langley  &  Michaels 
— they  are  the  wholesale  chemists  in 
town — and  have  their  agent  come  out 
here  and  talk  business  to  us  about  our 
ambergris.  We've  got  to  pay  the  men 
their  prize  -  money ;  then  as  soon  as 
we  get  our  own  money  in  hand  we  can 
talk  about  overhauling  and  outfitting  the  ''- 
Bertha" 

Moran  refused  to  accompany  him  ashore 
and  into  the  Lifeboat  Station.  Roofed 
houses  were  an  object  of  suspicion  to  her. 

Already  she  had  begun  to  be  uneasy  at 
18  273 


Moran   of  the  Lady   Letty 

the  distant  sight  of  the  city  of  San  Fran 
cisco,  Nob,  Telegraph,  Eussian,  and  Kin- 
con  hills,  all  swarming  with  buildings 
and  grooved  with  streets ;  even  the  land 
locked  harbor  fretted  her.  Wilbur  could 
see  she  felt  imprisoned,  confined.  When 
he  had  pointed  out  the  Palace  Hotel  to 
her — a  vast  gray  cube  in  the  distance, 
overtopping  the  surrounding  roofs — she 
had  sworn  under  her  breath. 

"  And  people  can  live  there,  good  heav 
ens!  Why  not  rabbit-burrows,  and  be 
done  with  it?  Mate,  how  soon  can  we 
be  out  to  sea  again  ?  I  hate  this  place. " 

Wilbur  found  the  captain  of  the  Life 
boat  Station  in  the  act  of  sitting  down  to 
a  dinner  of  boiled  beef  and  cabbage.  He 
was  a  strongly  built,  well-looking  man, 
with  the  air  more  of  a  soldier  than  a 
sailor.  He  had  already  been  studying  the 
schooner  through  his  front  window  and 
had  recognized  her,  and  at  once  asked 
Wilbur  news  of  Captain  Kitchell.  Wil 
bur  told  him  as  much  of  his  story  as  was 
274 


Moran   Sternersen 

necessary,  but  from  the  captain's  talk  he 
gathered  that  the  news  of  his  return  had 
long  since  been  wired  from  Coronado,  and 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  avoid  a 
nine-days'  notoriety.  The  captain  of  the 
station  (his  name  was  Hodgson)  made 
"Wilbur  royally  welcome,  insisted  upon 
his  dining  with  him,  and  himself  called 
up  Langley  £  Michaels  as  soon  as  the 
meal  was  over. 

It  was  he  who  offered  the  only  plausi 
ble  solution  of  the  mystery  of  the  lifting 
and  shaking  of  the  schooner  and  the 
wrecking  of  the  junk.  Though  Wilbur 
was  not  satisfied  with  Hodgson's  ex 
planation,  it  was  the  only  one  he  ever 
heard. 

When  he  had  spoken  of  the  matter, 
Hodgson  had  nodded  his  head.  "  Sulphur- 
bottoms,"  he  said. 

"  Sulphur-bottoms?" 

"Yes;  they're  a  kind  of  right  whale; 
they  get  barnacles  and  a  kind  of  marine 
lice  on  their  backs,  and  come  up  and 
275 


Moran   of  the  Lady   Letty 

scratch  themselves  against  a  ship's  keel, 
just  like  a  hog  under  a  fence." 

When  Wilbur's  business  was  done,  and 
he  was  making  ready  to  return  to  the 
schooner,  Hodgson  remarked  suddenly: 
"Hear  you've  got  a  strapping  fine  girl 
aboard  with  you.  Where  did  you  fall  in 
with  her?"  and  he  winked  and  grinned. 

Wilbur  started  as  though  struck,  and 
took  himself  hurriedly  away;  but  the 
man's  words  had  touched  off  in  his  brain 
a  veritable  mine  of  conjecture.  Moran 
in  Magdalena  Bay  was  consistent,  con 
gruous,  and  fitted  into  her  environment. 
But  how — how  was  Wilbur  to  explain  her 
to  San  Francisco,  and  how  could  his  be 
havior  seem  else  than  ridiculous  to  the 
men  of  his  club  and  to  the  women  whose 
dinner  invitations  he  was  wont  to  receive  ? 
They  could  not  understand  the  change 
that  had  been  wrought  in  him ;  they  did 
not  know  Moran,  the  savage,  half-tamed 
Valkyrie  so  suddenly  become  a  woman. 
Hurry  as  he  would,  the  schooner  could 
276 


Moran  Sternersen 

not  be  put  to  sea  again  within  a  fortnight. 
Even  though  he  elected  to  live  aboard  in 
the  mean  while,  the  very  business  of  her 
preparation  would  call  him  to  the  city 
again  and  again.  Moran  could  not  be 
kept  a  secret.  As  it  wras,  all  the  world 
knew  of  her  by  now.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  could  easily  understand  her  position; 
to  her  it  seemed  simplicity  itself  that  they 
two  wiio  loved  each  other  should  sail  aw^ay 
and  pass  their  lives  together  upon  the  sea, 
as  she  and  her  father  had  done  before. 

Like  most  men,  Wilbur  had  to  walk 
when  he  was  thinking  hard.  He  sent  the 
dory  back  to  the  schooner  with  word  to 
Moran  that  he  would  take  a  walk  around 
the  beach  and  return  in  an  hour  or  two. 
He  set  off  along  the  shore  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Fort  Mason,  the  old  red-brick  fort 
at  the  entrance  to  the  Golden  Gate.  At 
this  point  in  the  Presidio  Government 
reservation  the  land  is  solitary.  Wilbur 
followed  the  line  of  the  beach  to  the  old 
fort;  and  there  on  the  very  threshold  of 
277 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

the  Western  world,  at  the  very  outpost  of 
civilization,  sat  down  in  the  lee  of  the 
crumbling  fortification,  and  scene  by  scene 
reviewed  the  extraordinary  events  of  the 
past  six  months. 

In  front  of  him  ran  the  narrow  channel 
of  the  Golden  Gate ;  to  his  right  was  the 
bay  and  the  city;  at  his  left,  the  open 
Pacific. 

He  saw  himself  the  day  of  his  advent 
aboard  the  Bertha  in  his  top  hat  and  frock 
coat;  saw  himself  later  "braking  down" 
at  the  windlass,  the  Petrel  within  hailing 
distance. 

Then  the  pictures  began  to  thicken  fast : 
the  derelict  bark,  Lady  Letty,  rolling  to 
her  scuppers,  abandoned  and  lonely;  the 
"  boy"  in  the  wheel-box ;  Kitchell  wrench 
ing  open  the  desk  in  the  captain's  state 
room;  Captain  Sternersen  buried  at  sea, 
his  false  teeth  upside  down;  the  black 
fury  of  the  squall,  and  Moran  at  the  wheel ; 
Moran  lying  at  full  length  on  the  deck, 

getting  the  altitude  of  a  star;  Magdalena 

278 


Moran  Sternersen 

Bay;  the  shark- fishing ;  the  mysterious 
lifting  and  shuddering  of  the  schooner; 
the  beachcombers'  junk,  \\ith  its  staring 
red  eyes;  Hoang,  naked  to  the  waist, 
gleaming  with  sweat  and  whale-oil ;  the 
ambergris ;  the  race  to  beach  the  sinking 
schooner;  the  never-to-be-forgotten  night 
when  he  and  Moran  had  camped  together 
on  the  beach ;  Hoang  taken  prisoner,  and 
the  hideous  filing  of  his  teeth ;  the  beach 
combers,  silent  and  watchful  behind  their 
sand  breastworks;  the  Chinaman  he  had 
killed  twitching  and  hiccoughing  at  his 
feet;  Moran  turned  Bersark,  bursting 
down  upon  him  through  a  haze  of  smoke ; 
Charlie  dying  in  the  hammock  aboard  the 
schooner,  ordering  his  funeral  with  its 
"four-piecee  horse";  Coronado;  the  in 
congruous  scene  in  the  ballroom ;  and,  last 
of  all,  Josie  Herrick  in  white  duck  and 
kid  shoes,  giving  her  hand  to  Moran  in 
her  boots  and  belt,  hatless  as  ever,  her 
sleeves  rolled  up  to  above  the  elbows,  her 

white,  strong  arm  extended,   her   ruddy 
279 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

face,  and  pale,  milk-blue  eyes  gravely  ob 
servant,  her  heavy  braids,  yellow  as  ripen 
ing  rye,  hanging  over  shoulder  and  breast. 
A  sudden  explosion  of  cold  wind,  strik 
ing  down  blanket-wise  and  bewildering 
from  out  the  west,  made  Wilbur  look  up 
quickly.  The  gray  sky  seemed  scudding 
along  close  overhead.  The  bay,  the  nar 
row  channel  of  the  Golden  Gate,  the  out 
side  ocean,  were  all  whitening  with  crests 
of  waves.  At  his  feet  the  huge  green 
ground-swells  thundered  to  the  attack  of 
the  fort's  granite  foundations.  Through 
the  Gate,  the  bay  seemed  rushing  out 
to  the  Pacific.  A  bewildered  gull  shot 
by,  tacking  and  slanting  against  the  gusts 
that  would  drive  it  out  to  sea.  •  Evidently 
the  storm  was  not  far  off.  Wilbur  rose  to 
his  feet,  and  saw  the  Bertha  Millner,  close 
in,  unbridled  and  free  as  a  runaway  horse, 
headed  directly  for  the  open  sea,  and  rush 
ing  on  with  all  the  impetus  of  wind  and 
tide ! 


280 


XIV 
The    Ocean   Is   Calling    for  You 

A  LITTLE  while  after  Wilbur  had  set  off 
from  the  station,  while  Moran  was  mak 
ing  the  last  entries  in  the  log-book,  seated 
at  the  table  in  the  cabin,  Jim  appeared  at 
the  door. 

"Well,"  she  said,  looking  up. 

"  China  boy  him  want  go  asho'  plenty 
big,  seeum  flen  up  Chinatown  in  um  city." 

"  Shore  leave,  is  it  ?"  said  Moran.  "  You 
deserted  once  before  without  even  saying 
good-by ;  and  my  hand  in  the  fire,  you'll 
come  back  this  time  dotty  with  opium. 
Get  away  with  you.  We'll  have  men 
aboard  here  in  a  few  days." 

"Can  go?"  inquired  Jim  suavely. 
281 


Moran  of  the   Lady  Letty 

"  I  said  so.  Eeport  our  arrival  to  your 
Six  Companies." 

Hoang  rowed  Jim  and  the  coolies 
ashore,  and  then  returned  to  the  schooner 
with  the  dory  and  streamed  her  astern. 
As  he  passed  the  cabin  door  on  his  way 
forward,  Moran  hailed  him. 

"  I  thought  you  went  ashore  ?"  she  cried. 

"  Heap  flaid,"  he  answered.  "  Him  other 
boy  go  up  Chinatown ;  him  tell  Sam  Yup ; 
I  tink  Sam  Yup  alia  same  killee  me.  I 
no  leaveum  ship  two,  thlee  day;  bimeby 
I  go  Olegon.  I  stay  topside  ship.  You 
wantum  cook,  I  cook  plenty  fine;  stand- 
uni  watch  for  you." 

Indeed,  ever  since  leaving  Coronado 
the  ex-beachcomber  had  made  himself 
very  useful  about  the  schooner;  had  been, 
in  fact,  obsequiousness  itself,  and  seemed 
to  be  particularly  desirous  of  gaining  the 
good-will  of  the  Bertha's  officers.  He 
understood  pigeon  English  better  than 
Jim,  and  spoke  it  even  better  than  Charlie 
had  done.  He  acted  the  part  of  interpre- 
282 


The    Ocean  Is  Calling    for  You 

ter  between  Wilbur  and  the  hands ;  even 
turned  to  in  the  galley  upon  occasion ;  and 
of  his  own  accord  offered  to  give  the  ves 
sel  a  coat  of  paint  above  the  water-line. 
Moran  turned  back  to  her  log,  and  Hoang 
went  forward.  Standing  on  the  forward 
deck,  he  looked  after  the  Bertha's  coolies 
until  they  disappeared  behind  a  row  of 
pine-trees  on  the  Presidio  Reservation, 
going  cityward.  Wilbur  was  nowhere  in 
sight.  For  a  long  time  Hoang  studied  the 
Lifeboat  Station  narrowly,  while  he  made 
a  great  show  of  coiling  a  length  of  rope. 
The  station  was  just  out  of  hailing  dis 
tance.  Nobody  seemed  stirring.  The 
whole  shore  and  back  land  thereabouts 
was  deserted;  the  edge  of  the  city  was 
four  miles  distant.  Hoang  returned  to 
the  forecastle-hatch  and  went  below, 
groping  under  his  bunk  in  his  ditty-box. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  exclaimed  Moran  a 
moment  later,  as  the  beachcomber  entered 
the  cabin  and  shut  the  door  behind  him. 

Hoang  did  not  answer ;  but  she  did  not 
283 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

need  to  repeat  the  question.  In  an  in 
stant  Moran  knew  very  well  what  he  had 
come  for. 

"  God !"  she  exclaimed  under  her  breath, 
springing  to  her  feet.  "  Why  didn't  we 
think  of  this !" 

Hoang  slipped  his  knife  from  the  sleeve 
of  his  blouse.  For  an  instant  the  old 
imperiousness,  the  old  savage  pride  and 
anger,  leaped  again  in  Moran' s  breast — 
then  died  away  forever.  She  was  no  long 
er  the  same  Moran  of  that  first  fight  on 
board  the  schooner,  when  the  beachcomb 
ers  had  plundered  her  of  her  "  loot. "  Only 
a  few  weeks  ago,  and  she  would  have 
fought  with  Hoang  without  hesitation  and 
without  mercy;  would  have  wrenched  a 
leg  from  the  table  and  brained  him  where 
he  stood.  But  she  had  learned  since  to 
know  what  it  meant  to  be  dependent;  to 
rely  for  protection  upon  some  one  who 
was  stronger  than  she ;  to  know  her  weak 
ness  ;  to  know  that  she  was  at  last  a  wo 
man,  and  to  be  proud  of  it. 
284 


The   Ocean  Is   Calling    for  You 

She  did  not  fight;  she  had  no  thought 
of  fighting.  Instinctively  she  cried  aloud, 
"  Mate — mate !  Oh,  mate,  where  are  you  ? 
Help  me!"  and  Hoang's  knife  nailed  the 
words  within  her  throat. 

The  "  loot"  was  in  a  brass-bound  chest 
under  one  of  the  cabin's  bunks,  stowed  in 
two  gunny-bags.  Hoang  drew  them  out, 
knotted  the  two  together,  and,  slinging 
them  over  his  shoulder,  regained  the  deck. 

He  looked  carefully  at  the  angry  sky 
and  swelling  seas,  noting  the  direction  of 
the  wind  and  set  of  the  tide ;  then  went 
forward  and  cast  the  anchor- chains  from 
the  windlass  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
schooner  must  inevitably  wrench  free 
with  the  first  heavy  strain.  The  dory  was 
still  tugging  at  the  line  astern.  Hoang 
dropped  the  sacks  in  the  boat,  swung  him 
self  over  the  side,  and  rowed  calmly  toward 
the  station's  wharf.  If  any  notion  of  put 
ting  to  sea  with  the  schooner  had  entered 
the  obscure,  perverted  cunning  of  his 

mind,  he  had  almost  instantly  rejected  it. 

285 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

Chinatown  was  his  aim;  once  there  and 
under  the  protection  of  his  tong,  Hoang 
knew  that  he  was  safe.  He  knew  the 
hiding-places  that  the  See  Yup  Asso 
ciation  provided  for  its  members — 
hiding-places  whose  very  existence  was 
unknown  to  the  police  of  the  White 
Devil. 

No  one  interrupted — no  one  even  no 
ticed — his  passage  to  the  station.  At 
best,  it  was  nothing  more  than  a  coo 
lie  carrying  a  couple  of  gunny-sacks 
across  his  shoulder.  Two  hours  later, 
Hoang  was  lost  in  San  Francisco's  China 
town. 


At  the  sight  of  the  schooner  sweeping 
out  to  sea,  Wilbur  was  for  an  instant 
smitten  rigid.  What  had  happened? 
Where  was  Moran?  Why  was  there 
nobody  on  board?  A  swift,  sharp  sense 
of  some  unnamed  calamity  leaped  sud 
denly  at  his  throat.  Then  he  was  aware 
286 


The    Ocean   Is   Calling    for  You 

of  a  clattering  of  hoofs  along  the  road  that 
led  to  the  fort.  Hodgson  threw  himself 
from  one  of  the  horses  that  were  used 
in  handling  the  surf -boat,  and  ran  to  him 
hatless  and  panting. 

"My  God!"  he  shouted.  "Look,  your 
schooner,  do  you  see  her?  She  broke 
away  after  I'd  started  to  tell  you — to  tell 
you — to  tell  you — your  girl  there  on 
board —  It  was  horrible!" 

"  Is  she  all  right?"  cried  Wilbur,  at  top 
voice,  for  the  clamor  of  the  gale  was  in 
creasing  every  second. 

"All  right!  No;  they've  killed  her — 
somebody — the  coolies,  I  think — knifed 
her!  I  went  out  to  ask  you  people  to 
come  into  the  station  to  have  supper  with 
me " 

"Killed  her— killed  her!  Who?  I 
don't  believe  you " 

"  Wait — to  have  supper  with  me /and  I 

found  her  there  on  the  cabin  floor.     She 

was  still  breathing.     I  carried  her  up  on 

deck — there  was  nobody  else  aboard.     I 

287 


Moran  of  the  Lady   Letty 

carried  her  up  and  laid  her  on  the  deck— 
and  she  died  there.  Just  now  I  came 
after  you  to  tell  you,  and ' 

"  Good  God  Almighty,  man !  who  killed 
her?  Where  is  she?  Oh — but  of  course 
it  isn't  true !  How  did  you  know?  Mo- 
ran  killed !  Moran  killed !" 

"  And  the  schooner  broke  away  after  I 
started!" 

"  Moran  killed !  But — but — she's  not 
dead  yet;  w^e'll  have  to  see 

"She  died  on  the  deck;  I  brought  her 
up  and  laid  her  on " 

"  How  do  you  know  she's  dead  ?  Where 
is  she?  Come  on,  we'll  go  right  back  to 
her — to  the  station!" 

"  She's  on  board — out  there !" 

"Where  —  where  is  she?  My  God, 
man,  tell  me  where  she  is !" 

"Out  there  aboard  the  schooner.  I 
brought  her  up  on  deck — I  left  her  on 
the  schooner — on  the  deck — she  was 
stabbed  in  the  throat — and  then  came 
after  you  to  tell  you.  Then  the  schooner 
288 


The    Ocean   Is   Calling    for  You 

broke  away  while  I  was  coming;  she's 
drifting  out  to  sea  now!" 

"Where  is  she?     Where  is  she?" 

"  Who — the  girl — the  schooner — which 
one?  The  girl  is  on  the  schooner — and 
the  schooner — that's  her,  right  there — 
she's  drifting  out  to  sea!" 

Wilbur  put  both  hands  to  his  temples, 
closing  his  eyes. 

"I'll  go  back!"  exclaimed  Hodgson. 
"  We'll  have  the  surf-boat  out  and  get  after 
her;  we'll  bring  the  body  back!" 

"No,  no!"  cried  Wilbur,  "it's  better— 
this  way.  Leave  her,  let  her  go — she's 
going  out  to  sea — out  to  sea  again !" 

"  But  the  schooner  won't  live  two  hours 
outside  in  this  weather;  she'll  go  down!" 

"  It's  better — that  way — let  her  go.  I 
want  it  so!" 

"  I  can't  stay !  I  can't  stay  here !"  said 
the  other.  "There's  a  storm  coming  up, 
and  I've  got  to  be  at  my  station." 

Wilbur  did  not  answer ;  he  was  watch 
ing  the  schooner. 

19  289 


Moran  of  the   Lady   Letty 

"I  can't  stay!"  cried  the  other  again. 
"  If  the  patrol  should  signal — I  can't  stop 
here,  I  must  be  on  duty.  Come  back, 
you  can't  do  anything !" 

"No!" 

"  I  have  got  to  go !"  Hodgson  ran  back, 
swung  himself  on  the  horse,  and  rode  away 
at  a  furious  gallop,  inclining  his  head 
against  the  gusts. 

And  the  schooner  in  a  world  of  flying 
spray,  white  scud,  and  driving  spoondrift, 
her  cordage  humming,  her  forefoot  chum- 
ing,  the  flag  at  her  peak  straining  stiff  in 
the  gale,  came  up  into  the  narrow  passage 
of  the  Golden  Gate,  riding  high  upon  the 
outgoing  tide.  On  she  came,  swinging 
from  crest  to  crest  of  the  weaves  that 
kept  her  company,  and  that  ran  to  meet 
the  ocean,  shouting  and  calling  out 
beyond  there  under  the  low,  scudding 
clouds. 

Wilbur  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
old  fort.  Erect  upon  its  granite  ledge  he 

stood,  and  watched  and  waited. 
290 


The    Ocean  Is   Calling    for  You 

Not  once  did  the  Bertha  Millner  falter 
in  her  race.  Like  an  imbitted  horse,  all 
restraint  shaken  off,  she  ran  free  toward 
the  ocean  as  to  her  pasture-land.  She 
came  nearer,  nearer,  rising  and  rolling 
with  the  seas,  her  bowsprit  held  due  west, 
pointing  like  a  ringer  out  to  sea,  to  the 
west — out  to  the  world  of  romance.  And 
then  at  last,  as  the  little  vessel  drew  op 
posite  the  old  fort  and  passed  not  one  hun 
dred  yards  away,  Wilbur,  watching  from 
the  rampart,  saw  Moran  lying  upon  the 
deck  with  outstretched  arms  and  calm,  up 
turned  face ;  lying  upon  the  deck  of  that 
lonely  fleeing  schooner  as  upon  a  bed  of 
honor,  still  and  calm,  her  great  braids 
smooth  upon  her  breast,  her  arms  wide; 
alone  with  the  sea:  alone  in  death  as  she 
had  been  in  life.  She  passed  out  of  his 
life  as  she  had  come  into  it — alone,  upon 
a  derelict  ship,  abandoned  to  the  sea.  She 
went  out  with  the  tide,  out  with  the  storm ; 
out,  out,  out  to  the  great  gray  Pacific  that 
knew  her  and  loved  her,  and  that  shouted 
291 


Moran  of  the  Lady  Letty 

and  called  for  her,  and  thundered  in  the 
joy  of  her  as  she  came  to  meet  him  like  a 
bride  to  meet  a  bridegroom. 

"Good-by,  Moran!"  shouted  Wilbur  as 
she  passed.  "  Good-by,  good-by,  Moran ! 
You  were  not  for  me — not  for  me !  The 
ocean  is  calling  for  you,  dear ;  don't  you 
hear  him  ?  Don't  you  hear  him  ?  Good- 
by,  good-by,  good-by !" 

The  schooner  swept  by,  shot  like  an 
arrow  through  the  swirling  currents  of 
the  Golden  Gate,  and  dipped  and  bowed 
and  courtesied  to  the  Pacific  that  reached 
toward  her  his  myriad  curling  fingers. 
They  enfolded  her,  held  her  close,  and 
drew  her  swiftly,  swiftly  out  to  the  great 
heaving  bosom,  tumultuous  and  beating  in 
its  mighty  joy,  its  savage  exultation  of 
possession. 

Wilbur  stood  watching.  The  little 
schooner  lessened  in  the  distance — be 
came  a  shadow  in  mist  and  flying  spray — 
a  shadow  moving  upon  the  face  of  the  great 

waste  of  water.     Fainter  and  fainter  she 
292 


The    Ocean   Is  Calling   for  You 

grew,  vanished,  reappeared,  was  heaved 
up  again — a  mere  speck  upon  the  western 
sky — a  speck  that  dwindled  and  dwindled, 
then  slowly  melted  away  into  the  gray  of 
the  horizon. 


THE    END 


293 


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